


Iustus

by MI5WWII



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angel Wings, Epic, Fantasy, Knight Dean, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prince Castiel, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MI5WWII/pseuds/MI5WWII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the land of Caelum  two orphaned Winchesters are taken in by the King's highest guard. Through the years Dean trains to become Prince Castiel's personal guard and protector. But the country is on the brink of war and King Michael has turned his back against God. Castiel receives a heavenly divine message and the Prince and his protector must embark on a quest full of questions, kidnappings, the country's future at stake, and the beginnings of forbidden love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sic Parvis Magna

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters of this fic are posted on fanfiction.net under my profile fantasyelfqueen.  
> The story is unfinished and my updates won't be often. I use quite a bit of Latin and historical terms in this so I'll post translations and warnings for each individual chapter.  
> : Latin Word and sayings:  
> Caelum-Heaven Caelestis Hospes-Heavenly Host  
> Angelus-Angel Archangelum-Archangel  
> Regnum Dei-Kingdom of God Infernus-Hell  
> Bellatores Dei-Warriors of God Quid agis-What’s going on?  
> Siste dixi-Stop, I have spoken  
> Ego non nocere, dimitte illis, damnant quod non intelligent-I do no harm, forgive them, they condemn what they do not understand  
> Bellatores-warriors Bellator-(Singular) Warrior  
> Dixi nullius-I have spoken property Noli me tangere nullius-Do not touch me  
> Princeps-(technically means emperor as there were no princes in ancient Rome) though technical translation is prince  
> Sic parvis magna, candor dat viribus alas, nulli secundus o iustus-Greatness from small beginnings. Sincerity gives strength to wings, Second to none oh Righteous Man.  
> : Historical Terms:  
> Bastion-part of the defenses of a castle standing proud from the wall and giving a good field of covering for defenders  
> Curtain wall-the outer wall surrounding a castle enclosure  
> Bailey-an enclosed courtyard  
> Vice-spiral stairway
> 
> Annnnnd because I suck with technology at a painfull level and can't figure out how to post the damn fanart with the chapter here's the link to my friend Pilgrimwanders' amazing fanart for this fic. http://pilgrimwanders.deviantart.com/art/Iustus-401425221

Some men are born with greatness; some have greatness thrust upon them, and some of us unlucky sods only glimpse it from afar. At least that’s what my father always used to say before he died. I think the usually went off on a ranting spew against monarchy and heaven and hell but that was a long time ago and I can hardly remember his face anymore.

                In the end he had died in such a way that made you stop and question the point of life. What was a life working the mill stone, only to be slain by it in the bitter end? He hadn’t always been a miller; folk said he’d been a hunter once, so renowned for his skills the Royal Rangers had called on him to track a Phoenix through the Lerulian Forest.

                The vague memories that I do have of my father are hazy at best. In my mind he was a stocky man, world weary and gray streaked dark hair. I wouldn’t have believed any rumors of my father being a famous Hunter then, he was just a stoop necked man broken by life.

                I had no memories of my mother. She had died in childbirth after bringing my brother into the world. My only reference to her beauty was a small oil portrait painted by a family friend that my father kept hidden in his straw mattress. He never spoke of her but at night I would watch as he drew it out to gaze at her image with sorrow glinting in his eyes.

                His mill was on the outskirts of Lorience, the capital city of Caelum. Lorience was a behemoth monster spilling across the mountain and hillsides. At the highest elevation towering above all other structures was Regnum Dei. Regnum Dei was rumored to be the largest castle within the realm and consequently the world. It was a sprawling stone fortress with sentry guarded bastions and spiraling towers topped with obsidian black turrets.

                It cast an impressive shadow down the mountainside and sweeping hills of the rest of the city. Our mill was built just out of the shadow’s reach, parallel with the outer wall of the city. So I grew up oblivious to the shadow that Regnum Dei cast upon the city. For a time my life had been simple and happy.

                But in my seventh year was the accident. I shall always remember the scream and hiding Sam’s face against my side when I saw deep crimson blood dribbling off the grinding stone and drying in the dust. Our neighbors had been good people but no one could take in two orphan boys. I refused to be parted from Sam who was three at the time.

                The city’s orphanages were hell to behold, so I ran. I packed what food we had and my old clothes for Sam before we were turned out on the street by the tax collectors and officials. It had been late summer at the time and at first it wasn’t too terrible. I begged and stole while we slept in the dirt alleyways and Sam clung to me in fear of the new life we were living.

                It was terrifying and we were always hungry. I learned to avoid the outer districts towards the east in fear of the boys not much older than I wearing dresses and paint. We ran and hid from the city’s soldiers that made sure to keep the streets clean of riff raff like us.

                Summer had drawn to a close and fall was quick and bitter to arrive. Our nights were miserable and I was desperate as a deep rattling cough settled in Sam’s chest from the cold. One late evening I had wandered into the higher city ordinances, frantically searching for anything to lessen the fever overtaking my baby brother’s body.

                I was barefoot and wore no layers or coat. Sam was tied to my back and I had him bundled up against the biting wind but his cheek stuck to the back of my neck with sweaty heat as his head lolled limply from sleep. I had just stumbled through one of the higher markets when a couple soldiers spotted me. One yelled out a warning as I took off in a dash to squeeze and wriggle through the crowds.

                I had just managed to avoid a carriage’s treacherous wheels when I stumbled back to trip on loose cobblestones to avoid the rearing hooves of a gargantuan chestnut stallion. Sam whimpered into the nape of my neck and I swung him off of my shoulders and clutched him tight against my chest. He was crying now, not the incessant screaming infants often delved into, but a soft pitiful whimpering and exhausted choking cry.

                The two soldiers caught wind of my sprawled form on the cobblestones and cried out with frustrated sounds and curses in a language I didn’t understand. I tried to scramble to my feet but I was thin and frail and Sam’s cradled form weighed me down. The armored knight reared the chestnut stallion to a halt and dismounted. I realized with dawning horror that he wore the sky blue surcoat of the Caelestis Hospes, the King’s royal guard.

He grabbed one of the soldiers charging at me and barked jumbled words at him.

“Quid agis?”

The guard gave a startled reply as he bowed deeply. I further realized the Knight bore the silver wings of an Angelus and my stomach sank in cold dread.

“Siste, dixi”

                The men bowed and stumbled away quickly and I scurried backwards to cringe away from the approaching Angelus. He squatted down and swept his riding cloak back with a swoosh. He was an older man, well muscled and broad.

“Ego non nocere, dimitte illis, damnant quod non intelligent.”

I stared up in fear and confusion. He blinked in realization and gave me a small smile.

“You are from the outer districts then, you do not speak Enochian?”

I shook my head with terror.

“I will not harm you, what is your name?”

“Dean”

He nodded as if that answered the greatest question in the universe.

“What are you doing in the higher districts Dean?”

I glanced down to Sammy who had stopped crying and was gazing at the Angelus with unfocused confusion.

“My brother is sick, I need…I need to get him medicine.”

His eyes softened as he dipped his head down to eye Sam’s bundled form.

“Where are your parents Dean?”

“Dead”

                I didn’t notice then but remembering back I can recognize the saddened look in his eyes from my blunt utterance of such a travesty. Even at seven I had accepted my lot in life and there was no bones about the situation I was in.

“I can get your brother medicine.”

                I gave his outstretched hand a mistrustful glare but in the end accepted it. Even if I had grown to mistrust the city soldiers this was an Angelus and I had been taught by my father since birth to trust them with my life. But putting my mistrust away, Sam was dying and I would do anything to save him.

                The knight swept Sam and me into the saddle with him as we galloped through the narrow streets and towards the curtain wall of Regnum Dei. The cool fall air whipped at my skin as the knight brought his horse to the main gate guarded by two Caelestis Hospes. They wore official ceremonial armor gleaming silver with white silken full sleeved shirts. Sky blue cloaks were thrown over their right shoulders and clasped with silver brooches. Their black booted feet were in a wide solid stance as their gauntlet covered hands rested on the pommels of silver ceremonial swords.

                I could not see their faces for they wore the ceremonial helmets. Visorless helms with long nosepieces and pointed crowns with wings engraved into the sides until the tips flared out a hand’s width or so.

                They were imposing figures and as it was the first time I had ever lain eyes on a royal guard I gaped in wonderment as we galloped past.

                In the bailey beyond the curtain wall the Angelus behind me swiftly dismounted and pulled me down gently with him. A stable boy grabbed the loose reigns of the stallion as Sam and I were swept towards yet another imposing wall and led up a narrow vice and through servant’s barracks before finally arriving in one of the lower towers.

                The first few days of our stay at Regnum Dei I don’t remember very well. The Angelus that had brought Sam to the healer was called Rupertus by his men but insisted I call him Bobby, or at the very least Robert.

                The language that the entire castle and higher ordinances spoke was known as Enochian. I couldn’t understand a word anyone spoke to me unless Bobby directed someone to greet me with broken English. It was known as the peasants’ language, a lower form of communicating that most of the Caelestis Hospes and nobles viewed with distaste.

                The castle was a bustling and lively place teaming with life. When Bobby would shoo me away from Sam’s bedside I took to wandering. Even at seven I could comprehend to a degree the absurdity of my circumstances; the lowliest of peasants scurrying about the castle amongst the noblest of the world. Foreign dignitaries and delegates were constantly swarming through the main gates; the whole world vied for the affections and allied favor of the Archangelum Royal Family.

                Days passed by in a blur. Bobby kept a firm watch over Sam and me but as an angelus he had many official duties and as I later learned he was a trainer for squires and one of the Old Order Masters that chose the members of the Caelestis Hospes and the Angelus corps in particular. At the time I didn’t have a good understanding of the caste system or the complexities of what it took to become a member of such an elite fighting group.

                The Caelestis Hospes were the King’s guard, they served the Archangelum Royal Family and protected the Castle above all others. They were the special forces of our military. But the Angelus corps was the elite soldiers; I often heard them referred to as Bellatores Dei, though I couldn’t understand what that meant at the time, Enochian continued to elude me. The people called them warriors of God. Often knights that had trained half their lives didn’t gain acceptance in their ranks.

                It was a sunny afternoon that my life took a dramatic turn. I had stood in a shadowed alcove watching several young squires’ train. They were boys from ten to twelve years, noblemen’s’ sons that had been holding a sword since they were my age or younger.

                A dark skinned boy with a shaved head jeered at me in my hiding spot. Though I couldn’t understand his words I understood his meaning perfectly. I was beneath him, peasant scum from the outer rim of the city that couldn’t even understand the words he leered at me. The trainer was a lithe man with half his head shaved and the right side, long and course, braided and knotted with wooden beads. He either ignored or didn’t catch the escalating sneers thrown in my direction but continued to call out in a sharp measured beat as the boys practiced sword movements.

“Unus…duo…tres…unus…duo…tres!”

After a time I had caught on to his repetitive chant, one, two, three.

The dark skinned boy finally grew tired of my ignoring him and broke ranks to stalk towards me with a mean look on his face.

“Dixi nullius”

                I blinked at him with wide eyes as I retreated further into my shadow. His lips curled back as he bore his teeth at me in an ugly snarl as he whipped his hand out to jab me in the side. I reflexively swatted his hand away. He spit out heated words.

“Noli me tangere nullius!”

                Before I could blink the dark skinned older boy was on me. We rolled through the dust several times before I twisted his arms behind his back and pinned his face to the ground. Not a moment later two more boys were upon me, as I kicked at them and snarled they all ganged up on me at once. Even as I spit blood onto the ground and fought blindly I felt a twinge of pride that it took three of them to take me down. Peasant scum I may have been but this peasant scum wasn’t going down without a fight.

A sudden booming voice reverberated throughout the courtyard with thundering anger.

“URIEL, RAPHAEL, ZACHARIAH!”

                My three captors fell away like gnats as Bobby’s furious form came storming to our bloodied battle on the cobblestones. He continued to yell at the three boys with such righteous fury that I felt the smallest twinge of sympathy for them. After he had rendered the three squires to cowering husks beside me he turned to bless the trainer from Caelum to Infernus. After the entirety of the courtyard stood with bowed heads and terrified expressions he finally turned to me. I cringed a little and scrunched my eyes against the inevitable scolding I was about to receive.

But instead a wide grin broke out on his face and he crowed at me with amused eyes.

“Dean my boy you are full of many surprises, come with me.”

I trailed after him uncertainly and nearly stopped short as I passed the resentful gazes of the squires. But it wasn’t the anger or humiliation in their eyes that gave me pause, it was the grudging respect.

                Bobby was a man of long strides and I jogged after him till we reached one of the grand halls and my pace slowed uncertainly but still Bobby continued on. We finally arrived at a great set of double doors carved with ancient battle scenes and legends of old. I stood and gaped for a moment only to scurry after Bobby’s retreating form.

                It was a library we had encroached upon; a grand library with a cathedral ceiling and books that towered to the sky. Marble mosaic designs covered the floor and reflected great spotlights of golden sun filtering in through high windows.

                I wandered a bit aimlessly after the Angelus I had grown to trust only to finally stop with a horrified wide eyed glance before I bowed my head and bent firmly at the wait to steep in a deep bow. Bobby had approached a blonde haired man dressed in a deep purple tunic and several layers of grays and blacks. He had a noble profile and the firm lines of an athletic warrior with many years of dueling under his belt. From his back was a pair of great wings tucked neatly against his shoulders, shining mottled colors of crèmes, grays, browns, and gold’s.

                He wore the perfectly round silver circlet that glowed with the faintest shine of silvery white light low on his brow and wrapping around his head in a dignified and non exuberant manner to symbolize his status as an Archangelum princeps.

                Bobby dipped his head in a respective greeting before plunging into a conversation I had no way of understanding. The royal prince nodded and as Bobby continued he began to shoot me amused and calculating looks. Bobby ushered me forward and I stood uncertainly as the Prince circled around me before nodding and chattering in an excited tone. Bobby finally took notice of my confused and slightly terrified expression.

“Dean this is Prince Balthazar. Our Prince here oversees the trainees for the future ranks of Caelestis Hospes. I have told him of your circumstances but also the promise you show in becoming a Knight of the Realm. What do you think of you and Sam staying as wards of the crown here at Regnum Dei and for you to start training as a squire?”

I spluttered in floundering confusion for several minutes before I managed to choke out.

“But we are not of noble blood.”

                Prince Balthazar stepped forward and stooped to give me a kind smile at that. He spoke English with a strange lilting emphasis on his vowels that gave a foreign impression to his accent. He had obviously learned to speak English as a second language later in life after the Royal Enochian he had been taught since birth.

“I can say that the crown welcomes you Dean if you wish to train as a miles, soldier that is. The origins of your blood mean no more to me than any other bellator in the Angelus Corps.”

“I…I…yes…”

I suddenly straightened and lifted my chin to state with surety.

“I wish to serve the Archangelum Royal Crown and Caelum to the best of my ability.”

Bobby chuckled and Prince Balthazar’s eyes twinkled as he gently patted my soldier.

“Then I am sure there will be none greater in all of Caelum than…?”

I had puffed my chest out in pride.

“Dean Winchester your highness.”

“Sic parvis magna, candor dat viribus alas, nulli secundus o Iustus.”

Bobby gave me a contemplative look before he graced me with a strange smile.

“I like that…Iustus.”

He seemed to roll the word over his tongue, tasting it and finding it to his satisfaction. It was obviously a name, but of what they called me I hadn’t a clue.

“What does it mean?”

Prince Balthazar gave a pleased smile.

“The Righteous Man”


	2. Ut Prosim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut Prosim  
> (That I may Serve)  
> Frater meus- my brother  
> Alae-wings  
> (I kept the word latin or “Enochian” even as I had the characters technically speaking Enochian because the technical term is wings but in my story it means something more. It is a manifestation of a small amount of Grace within a human. Often this shows a compatibility to become an Archangelum’s bonded which is not a romantic position or anything to do with sex necessarily, it is a unique brother in arms type of bond that a personal guard will fill)

                My first day of training as a squire was a nightmare to put it mildly. The trouble wasn’t that I was behind in my training, or that most of the nobleman’s sons were older than me. Most of my frustration stemmed from not being able to understand the Enochian language. Bobby had assured me that he would be finding a tutor for me as soon as possible. But in the mean time the others mocked me, and when our practices broke for the evening meal I sat in the courtyard alone, sweaty and exhausted.

                One of the younger boys, probably nine or ten, who I had noticed refrained from sneering at me, approached my miserable form splayed against the stone wall. He was tall and thin for his age with brown hair, long and curling onto his forehead and neck. He squatted down and gave an uncertain smile.

“Samandriel”

Oh God he was trying to talk to me. I shook my head at him and sighed.

“I can’t understand you.”

He thumped his fist against his chest.

“Samandriel”

I smiled in realization and placed my hand against my chest in return.

“Dean”

                He nodded and flopped down beside me, that had been enough communication for one day I suppose. We sat in comfortable silence for a time before he finally stood to his feet and beckoned me to follow him. I was a bit mistrustful, what if he just wanted to lead me to the others for a beating. But Samandriel had been kind so far and given me no reason not to trust him.

                So I followed him into the castle and down corridors. Many of the servants we passed stopped to give him a slight dip of the head, a subtle stoop of the shoulders. He wasn’t Archangelum, there were no wings, yet he had to be of higher birth. We had just rounded a corner, I had come to the conclusion he was leading me to the dining hall, when Samandriel spotted a friend. He called out cheerfully.

“Castiel!”

                This Castiel turned slightly and I ducked my head in an immediate bow. There were dark wings folded against his back, so black they shined an inky blue in the light. Samandriel laughed and nudged my shoulder for me to look up as Castiel approached with a smile before he hugged Samandriel. He turned two unearthly blue eyes on my form and uttered words I could not understand. I shot Samandriel a panicked look and he laughed, speaking on my behalf to Prince Castiel.

He nodded before doing the same as Samandriel had done, pressing his fist against his chest.

“Castiel”

I did the same, dipping my head slightly as I did, but instead of my normal name, the one I used every day, the name that Prince Balthazar had given me slipped out.

“Iustus”

They both seemed to cock their heads to the side before Samandriel parroted the name back to me.

“Iustus?”

I shrugged before stuttering out as best I could.

“Princeps Balthazar…named, uh…named me Iustus.”

Prince Castiel furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion.

“Frater meus?”

We all stood awkwardly for a moment; I had no answer to the question I could not understand. So I did the same as Samandriel had, parroted the words back in confusion.

“Frater meus?”

Samandriel and he exchanged a frustrated look as if to say they had no idea how to translate. Castiel uttered the words slowly again.

“Princeps Balthazar est frater meus.”

He uttered the last part while patting his chest with his open palm.

“Your brother?”

His mouth twisted up as he tried to comprehend my words.

“Prince Balthazar is your brother.”

I gestured down the hall and then to Prince Castiel’s chest. His eyes cleared and he smiled, nodding slowly.

                In the end Samandriel drug us both to the dining hall even though we could hardly communicate. It’s hard to describe the strange friendship that formed that day. I was the peasant boy scraped from the streets by an Angelus because of a dying brother and there I was dining with an Archangelum prince.

                Though we had difficulty communicating with words, we found a strange medium of hand signals and body language. I found an easy camaraderie with him. Albeit in the beginning I was wary, I was a miller’s son, he was an Archangelum, the highest on earth. But something about him called out to me, even as nothing more than a dumb peasant; I pushed my cowering awe of royalty away and accepted a fast friendship.

                I think we connected so well simply because we might have been the solemnest children in all of Caelum. In the past year I had been through more than any child should ever endure; seeing my father’s mashed and bloody form under the millstone, starving on the streets, and having the weight of the world on my shoulders trying to protect my baby brother. I had been a rambunctious child before, a carefree loudmouthed boy who loved climbing the city wall and playing in the dirt. But when I came to Regnum Dei I was a solemn faced youth already world weary and wise beyond my years.

                I cannot imagine the upbringing Castiel had been raised under. I knew the tragic stories of his family that had taken place only four years before. I would have been three at the time, Castiel two. The King and the Crown Prince Lucifer had set out on a crusade against Caelum’s bordering country Infernus. Our two countries had been at war long before my grandfather’s grandfather could ever remember.

                But tragedy had struck not with the hand of war but with treachery from the Archangelum family. The Crown Prince had turned against the king, he had murdered his father and been mortally wounded in return. We had all heard the story, Prince Michael had found his father and brother killed by the other’s hand and turned his back against God. The people had outright laughed at the idea in the beginning, how could the Royal Archangelum family turn against God, our country had served him since we rose from the ashes of a destroyed civilization.

                Yet Michael had, upon his coronation day the Caelestis Cathedral bells did not ring and they had not ever since the death of the King and Crown Prince.

                The Queen had died from illness after birthing Prince Castiel. When he was two he lost his father and oldest brother. His now oldest brother had turned away from God, saying God had turned his back on the Archangelum family.

                We were a solemn duo but I found comfort in his quiet presence. We did not run and play and make mischief through the castle but rather he began to teach me Enochian in the library, and I him English. He would drag out dusty history books for me to read on Caelum while I kept Sam comfortable flipping through great volumes with lots of pictures by the fire. He was still coughing and was pale but the fever had receded and he was eating and drinking again.

                A week passed as we fell into our comfortable cycle. Every morning I was roused before dawn to practice in the courtyard. I trained with two separate classes, the younger and older to make up for lost time. When we braked for the midday meal I escaped with Samandriel to eat with Castiel away from the nobleman’s sons and their harsh words and sneering glances.

Several more hours of practice until I could hardly stand and then I was escaping to the library for lessons on Enochian, history and other subjects; as I said before, we were a solemn pair.

~oOo~

                The master Angelus of the castle strode through carved double doors to step into the royal library. King Michael sat at a long table wearing a long tunic belted over well worn leather boots and trousers. He had a light dusting of dirt marring his regal attire. Rupertus bowed slightly with a smile before taking a seat opposite of his King.

“You called for me your majesty?”

He closed the book he had been studying, a history of Dragon lore, it had been lying on the table when he entered the room and was full of scribbled notes translating Enochian to English.

“I did, what do you think of Castiel and Iustus forming such a close bond?”

To his credit Rupertus appeared unfazed by the abrupt question.

“I think it will do them both good. I believe I saw Castiel smiling yesterday, something I haven’t seen in quite some time.”

Michael narrowed his eyes playfully at the Angelus.

“Do not play coy with me, I know your old tricks and you are up to no good. What plans have you hidden up your sleeve?”

Rupertus dropped all pretense of innocence and leaned back in his chair.

“I informed you of the situation in which I discovered Iustus and the scene that played out of why I decided to train him as a squire.”

Michael interrupted with an amused raise of his eyebrow.

“We both know you have more in mind for that boy than training him as a squire, and here I though you didn’t play favorites.”

Rupertus sniffed indignantly.

“I saw something in the boy on the streets that day. I would like to say I took both of them in because of Samuel Winchester but the truth is I saw a glimpse of alae in him.”

Michael leaned back with a slightly stunned look at that.

“He is mighty young to see alae in Rupertus.”

“Why do you think I swooped him and his brother up and brought them here as quickly as I could? I took him to Balthazar and he could see it as well.”

Michael tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the book of dragon lore.

“And you can see the bond forming between Castiel and Iustus so easily, you are planning to soul bond them aren’t you?”

Rupertus leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table.

“Your majesty I would never push the bond on them before they are ready but I have been watching them these past days and the bond is already half formed. They connect like no one else I’ve seen, even…forgive me my lord, but…even Lucifer and Caelius did not merge as easily as Castiel and Iustus are.”

“So you are saying it would be cruel to part them now.”

Rupertus sighed unhappily.

“I believe that, but what I am saying is they could have the strongest soul bond, Iustus would be the perfect bodyguard.”

“You’ve been planning this all along, to make Iustus Castiel’s personal guard?”

Michael’s tone was accusing but in a friendly manner with an amused tilt to his eyes.

“Iustus couldn’t be his personal guard until he becomes an Angelus sire, which gives many years of training. I would have to send him away for a time to train with the Rangers, he cannot just be an Angelus, he has to become the ultimate assassin and warrior of all trades. We cannot guarantee he will succeed…yet I believe he will do more than simply succeed.”

“How strong were the alae in him?”

“If not for his wingless back I would have taken him for an Archangelum sire.”

Michael nodded.

“Bring the boy in here, I wish to look at him.”

                They rang a servant to retrieve him from his morning practice. The scuffed up muddy boy that was brought into the library quickly ducked into a deep bow at the sight of his king. Michael’s lips twitched with amusement as he called the boy forward. Iustus did not step forward, merely shot a panicked glance to the Angelus by his side.

“He cannot speak Enochian sire.”

Michael clucked his tongue as he circled the boy.

“We’ll have to fix that for certain. I like his stature; he won’t be too tall, nor too short. How well does he fight?”

Rupertus placed a comforting hand on the quivering boy’s shoulder.

“Exemplary, he took down three training squires four years older than him.”

Michael nodded and pulled Iustus’s chin up to look into his wide emerald green eyes before casting Rupertus an approving nod.

“I wouldn’t believe it without seeing him with my own two eyes. I can hardly believe you can see his alae, his soul looks to be perfectly compatible with Grace.”

Rupertus gave Iustus a small smile as the boy gazed up with all the wide eyed attributes of a cornered rabbit. “I suppose I approve then. Has the test been laid before him yet?”

“No not yet, I was planning to wait a while further to gain your permission.”

“Well I suppose I shall question him myself then.”

And so King Michael pulled a chair from the table to sit in. Even coated in dust from his morning’s ride he exuded an ethereal regality that had the boy shaking in front of him.

“Iustus that is what they call you?”

Michael spoke in lilting English, without the accent of his brother Balthazar, but dignified all the same.

“Yes your majesty.”

Iustus was still wide eyed; terrified he had done something wrong.

“You have become good friends with my brother, Castiel have you not?”

He nodded quickly.

“Yes your majesty.”

“There is something very special about you Iustus; do you know what that is?”

He shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Your soul is very special, you have a very rare magic in you that means you can connect with the Archangelum family. Rupertus has already asked you if you wish to train to become an Angelus. Well I have something better to offer you.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, none else was above becoming an Angelus.

“Because of the special magic in you we want you to become Castiel’s personal guard.”

Iustus nodded his head immediately.

“I would like that very much.”

He couldn’t see it but Rupertus was shooting him a proud smile.

                “Now to do this you have to understand and agree to something. Can you accept that your life is nothing, that you do not matter and whether you live or die is of no importance. Your purpose is to protect Castiel; at all cost you keep him alive even if it means giving him your soul to do so. Do you understand that you are a human shield for the Prince, that your life is no longer important, every instinct in you to protect yourself shall die and be replaced by the instinct to protect him at all cost. You are of no worth but to place yourself between death and his Royal Highness Prince Castiel.”

                This is a vast kick to gut for a seven year old. For anyone really but to tell a child they are worthless and that their life means nothing to anyone. It is a harsh sentiment but a necessary one. Even amongst the very few of humans that have alae within them, an even smaller amount pass this test. It takes a special kind of person, a unique individual to accept what King Michael had told Iustus that day.

                Even more than the alae Rupertus had saw within Iustus on the streets that day he saw something more. He saw the selfless nature within him, the ability to give his absolute all to another individual. Humans are selfish creatures by heart, even the best of them. But Dean Winchester, on the streets of Lorience, proved that he was willing to give his entire being to those that he loved.

                Most adults failed this test, most children, and those that did pass, there was always a moment of confusion, of hesitation. The instinctual reaction was to defend one’s worth of existing, of living. But Dean Winchester, or Iustus, he would go by many names in his life, did not hesitate.

                The King of the greatest Kingdom of the world had just told him he was worthless, of no importance or value. Most men would crumble at that, but a seven year old lifted his chin and raised his voice to announce.

“I accept”


	3. Datum perficiemus Munus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear things up everyone is speaking in Enochian in this chapter, but usually if I have an untranslated latin phrase it’s to emphasize that it is a famous, popular, or important saying within the language.  
> The mentioning of learning the art of Chivalry doesn’t mean they were taking etiquette classes, chivalry comes from a French term meaning the art of horsemanship. So Chivalry encompasses equestrian studies, horseback riding, and fighting from horseback.  
> Htron Atokäd is North Dakota backwards.  
> Michael in this story is the vessel of young John Winchester, so the dark headed, blue eyed, good looking version.  
> : Latin Terms:  
> Bellator-warrior  
> Patronus-protector (yeah yeah Harry Potter nerds, I was thinking it too)  
> Datum perficiemus munus- We shall accomplish the mission assigned  
> Terra-Earth (For any Terra Nova fans, that means New Earth)  
> I also wanted to mention that the name Anna is Latin which stems from the Greek form.

When you are miserable time crawls by at a snail’s pace and yet when you are happy if you blink the moment is over in a flash. I made the mistake of blinking and six years of my life passed by in a blur. I never quite had a normal childhood, and to others those years would not have been happy, but I would find myself more content than any time before in my life.

                It was not a life of leisure or idleness, as a peasant I had always believed the lives of the nobles and Knights to be filled with lazy afternoons basking in the sun while drinking wine and eating grapes. Both Castiel’s and my life had become grueling and exhausting. After my terrifying introduction with King Michael and being chosen to become Castiel’s future bodyguard, our lives had become interwoven.

                Every morning we woke before dawn to be trained by Bobby. We were to fight together for the rest of our lives. We were to know each other’s every thought and move. I was to memorize every blink of his eye, the way he walked, talked, breathed and ate. We were not two separate fighters in the cobblestoned courtyard, but one breathing entity that moved in fluid synchronized movements. I could tell any stance he would take before his muscles even twitched to do so; I knew his thought patterns and could predict his every breath with my eyes closed.

                We studied together, taught our native tongues to each other through the years with our own secret language of subtle facial expressions and movements. He could convey a thousand words to me with only the flick of a wing. We developed our own code through distorted military hand gestures that only we could understand. Even if a shape shifter was dumb enough to try and take his place I would know within a heartbeat that it wasn’t my prince.

                We were taught history, science, philosophy, astrology, and military tactics. I was possibly the highest educated peasant the world had ever seen as I studied under the finest royal tutors in the land with Castiel. I couldn’t just be the strongest and fastest, but the smartest also.

                The only time that we were not joined at the hip was in the evening when we each had our own private schooling. Bobby was my personal trainer and through the years I became a master of many hidden talents.

                I was taught to knife fight, to keep hidden blades up my sleeves and tunic at all times. I learned the art of fading into the shadows, disappearing into the background and silently running down stone halls. I always had new tests to pass before I could continue on with my training.

                I was ten when I had every poison and antidote known to man memorized by name, side effects, smell and appearance. I was twelve when I scaled the entire height of Regnum Dei’s tallest tower in the cover of darkness.

                I learned advanced and foreign fighting techniques; far eastern hand to hand combat that required a strange exercising regime everyday to keep flexible and agile. The most humiliating experience I ever endured was during my thirteenth year. Bobby had, in secret of course, brought in a female gypsy performer. I was made to learn acrobatics. God how I hated heights but by the time I was through I could flip backwards from the guard tower to the ramparts below.

                In a strange way, through the years I slowly integrated myself into the lives of those around me. During my younger childhood the other boys mocked me and I was ridiculed by many. This was one of many reasons why I held myself to such a strict code. It wasn’t enough that I simply be as good as or a little better than the others. Because of my origins I had to work twice as hard to gain half the amount of recognition.

                But these levels of harshness and discipline I had grown accustomed to. This extra diligence and drive thrust me forward leagues ahead of the others when we hit puberty and the hardest years of our training arrived.

                Combat training increased as did the weight of our armor and weapons. We studied battle tactics, military strategy, chivalry, archery, and foreign languages. It was during this time that the others began to struggle. This new load was nothing to me; I had been training harder than any other since my arrival at Regnum Dei. But I took true glee in the mass struggle of learning the English language.

                It is easier to master foreign words when you are of a younger age. Though it had been difficult I was seven when I began learning Enochian, and I had many a brilliant tutor and Castiel had been ever so patient through the years.

                The future Knights of Caelum butchered the English language. I sat in the background and laughed while they garbled out slurred pronunciations and stuttered halted words. My revenge was amusing and I greatly enjoyed openly sniggering and mocking their incompetence.

                When I was fourteen Caelum endured one of the harshest winters ever known. We trained in the snow and bitter winds, slipping on ice and bruising limbs more often than naught. Half a forest was leveled to heat Regnum Dei and wood smoke clung to your skin no matter the amount of scrubbing. Even into the summer after the acrid scent of smoke clung to my clothes.

                And as the years stretched on we all grew older in many ways. Sam was ten years old and a spindly awkward tangle of limbs. Though Bobby had placed him in squires training at the youngest age possible, my baby brother was a scholar by heart.

                In his height and strength he would make a fantastic warrior, Bobby was determined to make him an Angelus yet, though Sam preferred the library and to study ancient texts. At five Sam had been more fluent in Enochian than I was at nine. He took to languages and history like a bird spreading its’ wings.

                Samandriel was often times looking after him, he had no siblings of his own and when I could not keep an eye on the shenanigans Sam was ensuing, Samandriel was always more than willing to scold him into behaving.

                Even though I could not reach the position of bodyguard until I was knighted as an Angelus, my first initiation into becoming an official personal guard was at the age of 15. Caelum was a country of war on many fronts. On the western borderlands of Infernus we had permanent military camps and in the far north the Rangers kept vigil over the Lerulian forest and mountains which acted as a natural barrier between Htron Atokäd and our people.

                On our Eastern Borders was the somewhat savage nation of Terra. The origins of Hunters and the killing of supernatural creatures originated with the nomadic Terrian tribes people. In the past many years they had turned this hatred of magical creatures onto the Archangelum family. They were not mortal, not human, so our country was deemed an abomination of God.

                Our armies had destroyed the enemy forces and so, for a time, we were at peace. A great ceremonial celebration was called for. The ceremony was an ostentatious occasion and Regnum Dei was transformed into a beacon of conquering triumph for a day.

                The crowning hall was awe inspiring with a towering arched ceiling, great circular glass windows facing the sky to let golden rays of sun glint off the white marble floor. Marble pillars lined the hall, etched with knotted and weaving designs. On a raised dais set before a stained glass window; depicting the Archangelum royal crest was the marble throne. Compared with the rest of the grand hall the throne was plain, strangely undecorated accept for the curling designs of leaved vines wrapping around the armrests.

                On the ceremonial day the hall became something that was sung in legends for generations to remember. Angelus knights guarded every marble pillar dressed in the finest ceremonial armor. They wore high crowned helmets adorned with silver wings that arched back in high sweeping motions. Their breastplates were also forged with great Archangelum wings that flared over their shoulders. Layered winged metal curved over the shoulders to accentuate the powerful male form.

                Cerulean cloaks were clasped behind the flared wingtips to drape over their shoulders and swoop around them in great dramatic folds.

                Along their arms were silver etched bracers and gauntlets decorated with elegant designs rested on the silver pommels of the hilts on their blades.

                Upon the raised marble platform stood the Archangelum family and God what a sight they made. They did not wear the ornate armor of the royal guard; they reveled in the simplicity of their attire to further emphasize the dazzling beauty of their wings. Michael wore an ivory breastplate over a pale cream tunic. A shimmering silver cloak was clasped against the hollow of his throat and thrown over one shoulder. His great white wings were spread high behind his shoulders and the feathers fanned out, golden light from the window behind made them glow with an imperial light. He wore the thin royal silver band low on his brow, as did the rest of the Archangelum family, his black hair glinting against the reflected light.

                As the only woman in the family, Anna, the crown Princess stood by Michael’s side. In a family of dark and light her fiery crimson hair stood out in a shocking splash of color. She was alabaster pale, long glowing hair fall across her shoulders in thick waves to reach her waist. She wore the loose off the shoulder dress with floor length sleeves that had come in style; silver ribbon was wrapped around her waist and down her hips to bind the dress close to her form. Her wings were more slender than the males of the family, soft crème at the base and fading into a russet golden red towards the tips.

                Balthazar stood on Michael’s opposite side garbed in the same ivory armor and silver cloak of the king. His thick shoulder length golden hair was held back by the circlet band of silver. True to his cocky nature the prince held his dappled golden brown wings in a relaxed position, feathers lying smooth and relaxed.

                Gabriel, the second youngest brother, had just turned twenty of that year. I was not well acquainted with him as an adolescent but I was told he had a mischievous nature and was often ensuing mayhem on those around him in acts of trickery. But standing on the raised dais he had a serious face with shoulders held high. He wore the same armor as his brothers, though it fit his slimmer form less well than his older siblings. He also had long golden auburn hair, which was falling over his silver circlet. His wings were the same golden auburn as his hair and eyes, though they were streaked with darker brown feathers, giving a speckled impression.

                On the far end stood Castiel; he did not yet wear armor as he was too young to attain his knighthood and there was none to fit his fourteen year old form. He wore a deep cream tunic shot through with silver thread and clasped high on the neck. He did wear the same silver cloak as his other siblings though, the shimmering fabric made the electric blue of his eyes gleam in the light. His obsidian wings were held as high as he could manage though he had many years for them to finish growing. They were still downy at the base near his back, though they did arch high behind his shoulders with an impressive height for his age. They gleamed with a dark inky blue sheen and his tousled hair, which was growing thick and slightly curled in puberty, was flopping over his silver crown in rebellion.

                To my everlasting pride I was given the honor of standing to the left of the marble dais behind Bobby’s fully armored form. I was outfitted in a golden cream tunic with my own sky blue cloak though I could not wear the winged clasp of the Angelus. My black boots had been polished to a blinding shine and I wore my sword sheathed at my side, though it nearly dragged the ground.

                I go into great depth of my descriptions of that day simply because of the impact that ceremony had on me for the rest of my life. Something stirred inside of me, a swelling pride for my country and the Royalty in which I was sworn to protect. I had never quite grasped the magnitude and importance of…everything, until that day.

                Standing in the gleaming hall surrounded by the most powerful and important people in the world was humbling and hard to comprehend. Through my years of fighting and training I had never realized that I was no longer the lowly peasant boy. I was someone with great opportunity and luck. It wasn’t until the moment that I stood beside the Archangelum family that a dawning realization overtook me. I too, was to become one of the most important men in the empire. I knew that I truly held no great importance, I had accepted that at the age of seven, and yet, to others I was to become something magnificent.

                History books record that day as a day of peace and harmony. Revelry and joyous victory was celebrated throughout the kingdom. To many their memories of that day were of drink, dancing, the festivities and breathtaking ceremony. But I remember that day as when I finally understood the vast importance of the task set before me. I regarded my future training and tasks not just as a road to attaining my Angelus knighthood, but as a necessity to become a bellator, a patronus between Castiel and the entirety of mankind if need be.

This was the day that I truly transitioned from being not just Dean Winchester, but Iustus.

                In the feast after the ceremony and speech given by Michael I stood behind Castiel, arms clasped behind my back and a solemn expression on my face. We stood at the edge of the ballroom floor and I eyed one of the noble girls as she swooped by in a swirl of silken fabric and light floral scent. Castiel gazed at her with longing for a moment before he stated in a wry tone.

“You are scaring the girls away.”

                I relaxed my muscles ever so slightly and let the fierce expression I was sporting smooth out into a blank look. To another individual it would have seemed that Castiel did not even notice, did not react. However, I could see the faintest upward tilt to his lips and the smooth sweeping gaze he cast across the floor that ended with the peripheral glance to my stiff form. This was the equivalent of a smirking snigger for any other person.

                However, I defend myself in saying that I was not the reason for Castiel’s lack of a dance partner. He was handsome enough at fourteen, though very young. He had a short thin frame and his shoulders had not yet widened to encompass the sheer mass of his wings. But he had ethereal cerulean eyes that I had overheard many a girl swooning over. However, he was royalty. And even as the baby of the family no girl or woman, for that matter, dared approach him. And Castiel, bless him, was one of the shyest individuals that could be bred and raised in a royal court.

A time later Gabriel came barreling out of the crowd to wrap an arm around Castiel’s neck.

“Brother, why are you not dancing!!!”

“Because I do not wish to!”

Gabriel snorted at that before he began ruffling Castiel’s hair much like I did to Sam.

“Lies, come and dance with a pretty lady!”

                Gabriel was clearly drunk. He was obnoxiously loud and throwing himself about in the loose manner that only occurs after too much to drink. I stepped back smoothly to avoid Castiel’s right wing as his extra limbs flailed out unexpectedly to help keep his balance as Gabriel stumbled from holding his squirming form under one arm. I ducked to further avoid getting clipped in the head with a wingtip before I finally retreated a good distance as their small scuffle escalated, and wings began to thrash out in potentially dangerous results for myself.

                Castiel finally managed to shove Gabriel’s form off of himself and slapped him upside the head with a bristling obsidian wing. I pressed my lips together in a firm line to suppress a smile as Gabriel, while laughing hysterically, shoved Castiel playfully once more before disappearing into the dancing throng. Castiel smoothed his tunic with an indignant expression.

“I hope he falls from the ramparts in his drunken haze.”

                My suppressed smile did not go unnoticed and he narrowed his eyes dangerously at me. We stared at one another for a moment, Castiel eyeing me fiercely while I stood stoically, trying to look appropriately solemn. He wanted to clock me with a wing, I could tell, but he was resisting due to us being at a royal feast and all that.

                Castiel would not always be so aristocratically poised and indignant. At fourteen he was trying so terribly hard to be the adult expected of him and to impress his older siblings. Plus teenagers are always the huffy easily aggravated sort. Surprisingly, once we grew older Castiel would become as easygoing as Gabriel in his own way.

                He did not dance with any pretty ladies that night; though he did at the ball for his fifteenth birthday, but that was because he was forced to, dictating ceremonial tradition and all that.

                It was that night, after many long hours of revelry that Bobby called me to him. We met in his quarters; he sat at an oak desk sealing a letter with his ring when I walked through the door.

“Ahhh, Iustus, come sit down, I have some important news for you.”

I sat obediently and blinked in shock once he gave me the news.

“Leave…what do you mean I have to leave?”

“It is only for a couple years. It is required for your training to learn under the Northern Rangers.”

“But…”

                I had nothing to finish the sentence with. The thought of training with them was a thrilling thought; however the idea of parting with Castiel horrified me greatly. Bobby gave me a soft smile full of understanding.

“I know you do not want to leave Castiel, but you must all the same.”

Great unhappiness filled me but I bowed my head and murmured all the same.

“Datum perficiemus munus.”


	4. Tempus Edax Rerum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis-fire  
> Urbs de Astra-City of Stars (Urbs is a form of ancient Latin that through the height of Rome had practically become obsolete by the more known word civitas. But since I have the Rangers speaking a more ancient form of Enochian I thought it only fitting.)  
> Ex Vallis-From the Valley (The English form of Dean means From the Valley, the English form of Dean derives from Deanitus which was a Latin name for a leader of a company of men, usually around 10.)  
> Animus-soul (There seems to be varying meanings for this word ranging from the literal terms soul to courage, bravery and honor. Though the derogatory term meaning “lover” is purely fictional for this story.)  
> Miles-soldier  
> Tempus Edax Rerum-Time devours all Things

A small gathering of us stood in the main courtyard. We were quite the miserable group. I clutched the reins to my saddled bay in a leather gloved grip. Castiel looked ever so dignified and poised, dressed in russets and gold, though the slightest tilt of his wings betrayed his real dejected mood. At fifteen he was slight of stature and his hair and wings possessed the soft downy windswept look of his youth. His face had thinned though it still retained the feminine qualities of his adolescence.

                Sam stood at my right blinking his sad brown eyes at the world. His thick auburn hair had grown out in the past year and covered his large doe eyes in a disarrayed fringe. I had been too busy these past months to nag him into getting the trims he always loathed so much. He was too damn tall for a twelve year old, though Bobby was extremely pleased with his latest growth spurt.

                Samandriel stood behind Castiel, chin tucked against his chest as he stared at his boots with a forlorn expression. He had grown his own russet hair out, which he wore drawn back in a leather thong. I feared Sam was inspired by the length.

                Bobby was murmuring in a deep conversation with Ezekiel, acting captain of the Angelus guard in Bobby’s stead until he returned. I turned to Sam and pulled him in for a fierce hug, clutching him tight against my chest with a firm clap on the back. He tucked his head underneath my jaw and murmured in English.

“Stay safe Dean.”

                It was startling to hear anything but Enochian spoken within the castle walls. It felt like years since I had last heard the harsh guttural pronunciation of my mother language spoken, and my real name.

I whispered back into his overgrown hair.

“I will, take care of yourself Sammy.”

                We drew apart with solemn eyes and he shoved something small and hard into my fist before I turned to Castiel, clutching it tight in my gloved hand. His blank mask broke for just a moment as his eyes crinkled and the corners of his lips curved down in an ever so slight frown.

“I wish you the protection of Heaven Iustus.”

                I winced at his formal tone and swept a glance to Bobby who was saddled and waiting for me, cerulean Angelus cloak draping over his shoulders and the haunches of his stallion regally.

“I…you too Cas.”

                My goodbye was stilted and awkward, my shortened use of his name making the sentence sound even clumsier in my mouth.

                We were not yet fully bonded, though our souls had grown intertwined together in an unbreakable embrace. Our official “joining” as Bobby had once put it, wouldn’t take place until my return in two years hence. But God how it pained me to part ways with him, even then we were so thoroughly linked I felt as if I were leaving half my soul behind in Regnum Dei.

                Without another word I turned and mounted my bay, sweeping my own jade cloak over my arm as I did. I clicked my tongue to urge Ignis forward and refused to glance over my shoulder. It wasn’t until our steeds’ hooves thundered along the wooden planks of the drawbridge that I glanced down to my gloved palm and saw the burnished bronze medallion glinting in the morning light. I knew the charm, it was a ward of protection amongst the lower class; my father had owned one.

                I slipped the leather cord around my neck and tucked the medallion underneath my shirt and tunic to rest against my chest. It was a small piece of home, however long forgotten that was. God knows how Sam could conjure anything from our past within his mind.

                It was a long journey to the Lerulian forest where the Rangers made their home in the far North; over a fortnight’s ride by Bobby’s reckoning. Lorience was the capital of Caelum, though the city was in the Southeastern regions of our country, three days’ ride from the Sea. Caelum was a green country full of prospering forests, rolling hills, and in the northern regions the Lerulian Mountain Range stretched on and on. I had never seen the mountains myself but I had been told they were as deep a green as the emerald forests I would gaze at over the Lorience outer wall as a child.

                Like every other Caelium child I was told the tales at night, the legends of the ancient line of dragons that had descended through generations, living amongst the highest crags in deep caves within the mountainsides. My father always used to tell me how my great great grandfather had slain the Dragon King Incendium with a sword made of Celestial light. I’d demanded him to retell the great legend night after night for as long as I could remember. I could never recall when I finally realized the story was untrue, though I’d always made sure to pass on the adventures to Sam.

                The first many days of the journey were spent in comfort, we travelled on the main roads, staying in bustling inns every night with a warm hearth to sit and thaw our stiff fingers by. As we road North the towns and villages began to thin and huddle together in smattering clusters across the landscape. A fortnight’s ride led us off of the well worn dirt roads to travel in the late evening dusk through the outermost reaches of the Lerulian forest.

                Towering trees the likes of which I had never lain eyes on before. Great looming branches wove a canopy of shivering leaves in the brisk mountain wind. We picked our way along deer paths, treading through the bracken and twisting roots. When the sun had finally set behind the treetops and darkness had settled around us I was exhausted and covered in a layer of dried leaves, twigs, and moss from ducking through the branches and walking up steep climbs.

                We camped by a small trickling stream over a broken formation of rock. Bobby built and stoked a small fire to cook the rabbits he had bought off a peddler earlier that morning while I looked after the horses.

                When my task was completed I wearily collapsed in a soft patch of leaves by the fire. Bobby cast me an amused glance.

“You’ll have to get used to the forest life quickly boy, you’ve grown soft in your years living behind stone walls.”

I heaved a sigh.

“What are these Rangers like?”

“If you think your training has been hard so far you haven’t seen anything yet. If you pass their trials you gain a Knighthood into the ranks of the Celestius Hospes.”

“What are these trials?”

I must have looked incredibly frightened for he took one look at me before snorting out an amused laugh.

“Three trials are given for every apprentice, though the Masters choose the tests according to your weaknesses and skill level.”

“Lovely” I muttered unhappily.

He cast me another amused glance before it turned considering.

“You shall be an entirely changed being when you return…they always are.”

I squinted curiously at him across the fire.

“How does it change you?”

“You ride into the forest a boy and walk out a man. It is different for any individual, but they take something in you and forge it for the better.”

I stared at the roasting meat over the fire, fat dripping into the flames, hissing and spitting.

                The forest was both quiet and a symphony of noise. In the far distance I suddenly head an unearthly shriek that made an icy shiver run down my spine. Bobby’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed as he gazed into the darkness.

“Sounded like a phoenix, we’ll have to be on the lookout tonight.”

~oOo~

                Five days after we entered the forest the air drew chilled and came in strong gusts from the high emerald mountains that towered towards the horizon past the treetops. We rode with our cloaks drawn tight around our shoulders and our swords strapped to our backs in lieu of the wild calls that echoed through the trees.

                Bobby led us up steep hillsides covered in loose layers of black dirt and dead leaves so that our horses’ hooves often slipped and stumbled. I ached from holding my back and legs drawn tight in a nervous cinched ball of tendon and muscle.

                Midday we seemed to come upon flattened foot trails in the undergrowth. In the distance I could hear the muted roaring of falls and the air carried the crisp scent of damp foliage and clean mountain water. A dark figure stepped from behind the rough trunk of a weeping oak, bow drawn and arrow notched right at my head. I stiffened and reached for my sword as Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Ash put that damned stick down before you hurt yourself.”

The tall willowy figure lowered the bow and threw back the cowl of his cloak, revealing a mischievous grin.

“Jeguel has been waiting, you’re running late.”

Bobby grumbled and dismounted, I slid from my saddle less gracefully.

“Wasn’t my damn fault you morons have let the forest paths grow over.”

                Ash seemed unperturbed at Bobby’s gruff tone as he slung his bow across his back and began leading us through the trees.

“We’ve been having trouble with vampires wandering up from the Southwestern villages; we’re trying to put them off our trail as much as possible.”

It took a fair bit to surprise Bobby, but his eyebrows near met his hairline at this news.

“Good God what are they wandering this far north for?”

                Ash shrugged and brushed a curtain of willow leaves aside with a wide sweeping motion of his arm. Bobby and I followed through the narrow passageway and I paused to gape in the gateway. A towering cliff face of rock towered overhead as crystal clear water gushed forth to thunder in the shallow pool in a great deluge.

                Ancient trees stretched over the falls supporting the twisting frameworks of buildings merging with the bark. God it was a city in the sky! In the growing evening dusk warm hazy light glistened amongst the branches and leaves to give the sparkling effect of fireflies in a late summer evening.

                Ash weaved amongst the tree trunks till we reached the roots of a massive sprawling monster, larger than anything I could ever have imagined living. Ash stuck his thumb and middle finger into the corners of his mouth and whistled a three note trilling tune.

Not a minute later a rope latter came clattering down, bringing a raining barrage of bark and twigs with it.

“What do we do with the horses?”

Ash scooped the reins from both our hands and cast a smile over his shoulder.

“They’ll be in good hands.”

Bobby nudged my shoulder.

“You go first boy, I’d rather you fall on me than the other way around.”

~oOo~

                The Rangers’ way of life was something entirely different than anything I had ever come across before. Living in the outer districts of the city as a boy, life had been harsh yet contained the warm, homey, simple, peasant comforts. My memories of the mill were of lean winters and the dread of a bad harvest to make the prices of grains rise. Yet there were also memories of drinking spiced cider and Ellen’s honey sweetened oat cakes on holidays.

                Life in Regnum Dei was a swirl of greased armor and the harsh clanging of metal against metal. The winters had been filled with the sharp smells of smoke and musty straw. Evenings of respite had been filled with ancient texts in the library lit with the castle’s clover scented candles.

                Life in Urbs de Astra, which was they called their city in the trees, was entirely new to me. My training did not consist of fighting styles and techniques, or military tactics and strategies. The scout that I had first met who went by the name of Ash was assigned to be my mentor.

                He never called me Iustus, or Dean for that matter, but Ex Vallis, which he then shortened to Val. The Rangers spoke Enochian, though their dialect came from an ancient strain that hadn’t been spoken in common tongue since the Angelus were as common as daemons. Everyone spoke English, but even so I begin to teach myself the ancient dialect.

                Most days were spent struggling to run through the dense under bracken and fight through the choking foliage. Ash had feet made of smoke and I swear most days he swept through the forest invisible, leaving me far behind to struggle after him for hours.

                Through time he began to teach me the arts of moving silent between the trees, to roll my feet so that my footsteps could not be detected by any animal. I was to master the true form of archery, not just the military styles in which I had been taught but to shoot through the trees and hunt with a longbow.

                But more than anything I was to learn the way in which they lived. Having grown up as a peasant and then a ward of the crown, training to be an Angelus since seven, I had been more somber, more stoic than the average adolescent. A sense of rigid honor, duty, and military dictation had been instilled in me for years.

                The Rangers, though dedicated and masters in their arts had a close camaraderie of friendship and relaxed mischief in their ranks. Ash stated that it was his personal goal to coax me out of my shell and influence me for the worse. Though he was my mentor he was also my friend, and besides Castiel, Samandriel, and Sam, I had never had a friend.

                And though I pined after my brother and the Prince, slowly, I did change. I had never been drunk until Ash had challenged me to a drinking game. Early morning training had always ensured our soberness. Most of the Rangers were crass in ways of which I had never heard. For sure the castle soldiers had loose tongues and even looser morals, yet the Rangers yelled obscenities and degrading insults at each other over meals. It was the strangest show of affection I had ever come across, but I had warmed to it quickly.

                My place within these woodsmen’s ranks was hard won. I was not welcomed in the beginning. Very rarely did soldiers from Regnum Dei come to train with them. They were always candidates to become Angelus; I was the youngest they had ever granted to train since I hadn’t even been knighted as a Caelestis Hospes yet. There were whispers of a Caelius that had trained some years before but Ash had mentioned that he had been near twenty when he came to train. They called me Animus Miles, which had greatly confused me. In the royal Enochian they were calling me brave, courageous soldier, what they called me was not meant as a compliment.

                Unwillingly Ash admitted they were calling me a Soul Soldier, a derogatory term used towards a personal Bodyguard of an Archangelum family member. This had further confused me, the bonding Castiel and I would share when I was knighted did technically make me a “soul soldier”. Further interrogating later led to the revelation that this ancient term was used as slang, insinuating that the prince and I were lovers.

                I took no real offense to the nickname. The implied leers had not been the first I had received, most outsiders to our culture always found the bonds between Royalty and their guard strange. Many foreign dignitaries automatically assumed a connection of sexual nature between the bonded and I had grown immune to the sly comments at a very young age.

                But as time passed the snide comments subsided and after I proved myself to not be a complete moron a strained truce hung in the balance. Soon after I turned seventeen, the vampires that had been giving many of the northern villages trouble attacked Urbs de Astra.

                It was a surprise attack in the cloak of darkness. Many Rangers fell before the alarms were even sounded. Tristan, a close comrade, was one of the first to die. A raven haired, red eyed, male had grabbed him from behind and ripped his throat out.

                I had held his limp form in my arms, blood soaking my clothes, and something snapped inside of me. I unsheathed my sword and ran my bloodied hands down its length so that the blade was slicked with black glistening dead man’s blood.

                To be honest I do not remember all of that night. An anger I had never felt before coursed through me, fueling my limbs with righteous fury. When the bright morning sun crested above the tree tops we had killed the vampire horde.

                There were many a wounded man, flesh ripped open, gaping bight wounds down arms, but we had prevailed. After that night I did become one with the Rangers. We had experienced battle, bloodshed and death together. I had earned their respect and in return they had earned my loyalty.

                One year would blend into another, until my eighteenth birthday arrived. In two years I had undergone many changes, both within and in my appearance. I had grown in many ways. I do not remember when running through the forests, tracking animals and scaling falls with Ash had become easy. I do not remember at what point I could strike a deer through the heart from a perch in the highest branches of trees.

                Bloodshed had changed me; no amount of training could ever prepare you for the stench of copper that sat heavy in your lungs. There was no preparation for holding a comrade in your arms, his blood thick and coagulating, sticking to your skin.

                And through Ash’s ministrations I became comfortable with myself, yelling insults and obscenities to one another. I had gained an easy manner in my time with these uncouth woodsmen. Much of the stiff backed Royal Court training I had undergone was nothing more than a memory.

                And in those two years I reached my stature of manhood. I sprouted one last painful growth spurt, my shoulders widened, my jaw sharpened. Though I still kept my hair shorn short, prickling stubble often covered my neck and jaw. I was as tan as a peasant farmer and a fair amount of freckles dusted across my cheekbones and shoulders.

                But my training wasn’t over yet; I had three trials to complete before I could finally go home. The first, I had to kill a Phoenix.


	5. Fides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adae- There seems to be no absolute right way to translate Adam into Latin as it’s a Hebrew name. There are several variations such as Adamus, or Adail. I chose Adae because it felt to me, that it could be a shortened version of Adamus that Michael would use for him as a nickname since he’s his Personal Guard, or soul soldier, much like Dean’s use of Cas.  
> Celsus-Is the “Enochian” name that Sam has been dubbed with. It’s an actual ancient Latin name that basically translated to mean tall.  
> Caelius-The name of Lucifer’s personal guard, or soul soldier, this is also an ancient Latin name that means Heaven.   
> Fides-trust, also defined as belief and faith  
> Fides-trust, also defined as belief and faith
> 
> Pilgrimwanders did an absolutely fantastic portrait of adult Castiel here--- http://www.deviantart.com/art/Prince-Castiel-420858845

Hardened leather heals clapped on the marble floor as Rupertus’s strong form swept through the room. The wizened Angelus slid into the chair opposite of King Michael’s relaxed form. Magnificent plumed wings draped across the chair and floor in an elegant yet relaxed heap of feathers.

“You called for me sire?”

                Michael tapped his knuckles along the oiled wood of the table, the King’s seal clacking with a rhythmic metallic racket.

“In your reports you mentioned Iustus is to enter the three trials.”

                Rupertus gazed at King Michael’s hand, which was still tapping across the table rhythmically. He appeared unfazed and remarkably unimpressed with the powerful form sprawled across a high backed chair across from him. The King’s trainer of the Royal Guard was one of the few individuals who had always and would continue eternally to be unfazed by the King’s penchant for stating questions as facts. This purposeful trait rendered many a man scrambling for uncertain words and unsure answers. Rupertus gazed at his King with a subtly cocked eyebrow and a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“I did, though it is certain he has succeeded with at least two tasks by now.”

“You seem mighty sure of the boy’s success.”

                Rupertus crossed his arms and leaned his weight in the chair to balance precariously on the two back legs.

“I am not simply mighty certain. I am without any doubt that Iustus will succeed in the trials.”

                The trainer’s words appeased the King and the repeated tapping of his knuckles halted momentarily as he also leaned back in his chair.

“Castiel will be pleased at his safe return.”

                A rare gleam of warm compassion flickered through Michael’s eyes as he mentioned his youngest brother. Michael was not cold hearted nor devoid of compassion for his family. But betrayal, deceit, and the cruelties of life had rendered him the King of a nation far younger than any had anticipated, by many a thousand years at the least. Fate had dealt Michael a cruel hand; the raven haired Archangelum had neither wanted nor been ready for the throne, and circumstances rarely gave him the opportunity to simply be the brother he wished to be.

Rupertus caught the gleam in his King’s eyes and smiled sadly in return.

“He will be, though the boy has gone through many changes since Iustus’s absence.”

                An even rarer smile flitted across Michael’s features before it twisted into something bittersweet and sorrowful.

“He is so very much like Lucifer was.”

“And Iustus like Caelius?”

                Michael’s shoulders stiffened before he visibly relaxed and cast his steely silvery blue gaze on a high window.

“Does it worry you, history repeating itself?”

Rupertus cast Michael a surprisingly stern glance.

“No, as it should neither worry you. Lucifer and Caelius were the perfect soul links for the other, a Celestial bond that only Castiel and Iustus could match. And if you are troubled under the ridiculous notion that Castiel would murder to seize the throne…”

Rupertus paused to shoot Michael an exasperated look.

“Do not be a fool and let the past dictate rational thinking. Your youngest brother, whom is fourth in line to the throne, would gain nothing from murder, ignoring the very obvious point that Castiel holds no ambition for the crown.”

Michael sighed as his eyes clouded with pain.

                “And I would have believed the world’s end before my older brother’s betrayal twelve years ago Rupertus. To see identical paths being set as that of so short a time ago…it frightens me, the uncertainty. Our father was a strict man, in his ruling of Caelum and our family. I can freely admit that I did not…love him as I should have. He was not the ruler he could have been and I can see his faults but…I cannot comprehend what would have led my brother to murder. I sometimes fear that I have neither the faith nor the trust that I should have in ruling a Holy empire.”

                “I have neither words of comfort to give you nor any assurances that all will end in good fortune. I can only offer my own faith in Castiel, a faith you may have lost but one I believe you can trust in me.”

                At that moment the library door swung smoothly inward to reveal the strong and powerful stride of the blonde man approaching the table. He was wingless as he held no Archangelum blood though the light of alae shown brightly within him, which called out to his bonded other half.

                The handsome armored guard was consequently the only individual in the entirety of every known kingdom of the world that could enter any room the King occupied without permission; though he used the privilege rarely.

“Adae, what is of import?”

                The Angelus handed Rupertus a sealed letter, bearing the waxed crest of a longbow and arrow.

“The messenger arrived delivering post from Urbs de Astra; I thought it pertinent you received the notice quickly considering Castiel’s guard.”

Rupertus unsealed the letter as Michael dipped his head in a shallow nod toward the guard.

“Thank you Adae.”

Rupertus broke out in a wide smile.

“Iustus had passed the three trials, he returns to Regnum Dei within the fortnight.”

Michael tilted his head back to cast Adae a faintly amused smile.

“I’m sure Castiel would be thrilled at the news, and Celsus, the boy’s brother.”

Adae smiled in return.

“I shall inform them both then.”

Rupertus practically smirked as he folded the letter and Michael rolled his eyes.

“As I was saying, trust in my faith for them both.”

~Dean~

                Ugh, if I could have flown home I would have. Nearly two and a half years, it was such a long span of time. To the Archangelum it was nothing, a blip in time, though to the immortal a measuring of time probably seemed a great waist. I would have to grow used to that, after my bonding with Castiel I too would become immortal, through my connection with his Celestial Grace. But for now, two and a half years had been such a dearly long time, and the fortnight’s journey home seemed to span a million years.

                My trials had not been enjoyable experiences, Phoenix blooded smelt of sulfur and death. The horrid animal had nearly taken my arm off, the three shiny pale claw gouges raking across my right shoulder proof of that. The first trial was to test my strength, the second my intelligence, much to my horror with a riddle. I hated riddles, I was terrible at them; God knows it took me years to comprehend many of the ones Castiel had recited to me when we were children.

                But remarkably, and admittedly, after many a stressful night, I guessed correctly. The third and final trial was on spirit; however the council unanimously decided that in lieu of the battle against the vampires I had proven and undergone any trial they could throw against my spirit. I had witnessed battle and death, and that was the hardest trial to endure of all.

                The night before I left was spent in revelry and drunken celebration. I had been an outcast in the beginning, much like my start at Regnum Dei but two and a half years later would forge many a friendship I would never forget.

                Namely my mentor Ash, who gifted me with a yew carved longbow and a drunken slap upside the head and the notorious twin brothers, Archer and Fletcher. But as sad as I was to depart Urbs de Astra I was thrilled to return home by a million fold, to Sam, and Castiel.

                The journey south was much as I remembered, though my initial trek through the Lerulien forest was effortless compared to the exhaustive battle it had been. Though I did not bare the silver wings of an Angelus, or the armor of a Caelestis Hospes, I was recognized by my sword and bow as a warrior, and not to be trifled with on the road.

                When I caught sight of the sprawling city of Lorience, the perched towers of Regnum Dei glistening in the setting sun, I felt a thrill rush through me and I urged my horse faster at the glorious sight. I cantered through the streets and rushed past towns’ people and foot soldiers, merchants and noblemen.

                I thundered across the drawbridge and the sound of my horse’s hooves clattering across the courtyard cobblestones filled the air as I swiftly dismounted. A stable boy took the reins to Ignis as I pulled of my leather riding gloves and swept my cloak to one shoulder.

“Is the Angelus Royal trainer here?”

“His horse hasn’t been taken out since yesterday morning sir.”

“Thank you.”

                I did not even attempt to sweep out of the outer courtyard regally. I took off at careening run through the stable yard and to the inner wall and training yard. The sounds of swords clashing and harsh guttural yells and curses filled the air as I came to a precarious halt on the edge of the outer steps on the bastion above the yard. I grinned as I spotted wild chestnut hair and broad shoulders which had grown far too fast in two years.

“SAMMY!”

He whipped around to cast a wide eyed glance above before he grinned and waved wildly with his practice sword.

“Dean!”                 I charged down the steps and collided with my brother in a clash of grappling muscle and a near violent embrace. I drew back to cast an incredulous glance at the equal height of his shoulders set against mine.

“Good God what has Bobby been feeding you?!”

                He just laughed and grabbed my shoulder before I winced at the pull of still sore muscle and flesh. He cast me a worried glance and I shrugged off his large brown eyed worried stare.

“It’s alright little brother, only a small scuffle with an angry bird, I’ll be fully healed in no time.”

                He pursed his lips in the same manner as he had done for years, even though he had grown near half his height and gained the muscled lankiness that came with adolescence. He was fourteen, but appeared nearer to my own age.

At that moment Samandriel’s voice yelled across the courtyard.

“Dean?!”

                I turned in time to catch his colliding form face on as he yanked me in for a crushing hug. His long russet hair was tied back in a leather thong, attention drawn to his severely sharp jaw and the long regal shape of nose and lips. He wore the silver armor of the Caelestis Hospes, though as he was only twenty he could not yet be knighted into the Angelus. I drew back and raked a faux scathing glance across his form.

“Went and got knighted without me, bastard!!”

He seemed slightly taken back by my easy joking manner but quickly grinned and shoved me in return.

“Not all of us must train with God himself before we can attain our goals.”

As usual Sam looked vaguely scandalized at sacrilegious words; though I was surprised myself at Samandriel’s smooth jibe. I chuckled and clapped his shoulder.

“You seen Castiel?”

His impish grin softened into a knowing smile.

“Practicing aerial combat with Gabriel in the inner bailey.”

                I hovered for a moment before Sam rolled his eyes in that typical manner he always had and shooed me away so he could continue with his training, as the instructor was casting us all annoyed glances as he screamed at the other squires.

                The inner bailey that Samandriel had referred to was more of an enclosed garden with wide expanses of bright green grass and great stone fountains.

                But the inner yard was of no consequence when I caught sight of the magnificent sight in the sky. Two grappling muscled forms were twisting and cursing as a set of golden brown dappled and oily black wings flapped and thrashed in the air. The muffled yells and whooshing swoops of air continued for several more minutes until dappled golden wings collided against the ground with inky blue collapsing on top.

                I approached the two brothers and watched as Castiel reared back off of Gabriel and shook out his wings with a laugh. They were immense, having grown half their span in our time apart. They had lost the soft down of childhood and his primaries bristled out in an impressive display from his happy exuberance from the aerial battle. Castiel pulled Gabriel to his feet as I approached and he turned to me with a wicked grin.

“Well, well, well, we figured you left for dead in the woods somewhere far north of here.”

                Castiel turned as his wings fanned out behind him, refracting golden sunlight across glinting oily shined feathers as he cast me a wide bright eyed smile. As much as I had changed in the past two and a half years, Castiel had done twice as much. He had grown near my height, shoulders widened to encompass the sheer mass and weight of his wings, though his chest tapered to the same slim waist I remembered.

                His jaw had lengthened, muscles hardened, lines and contours of his face sharpened and devoid of any softness of childhood roundness. His always wildly thick and curling hair was grown out to curl over his ears and onto the nape of his neck and on his right side was plated into a thick braid that reached just past his ear and was knotted and tied with beads carved with Enochian symbols. It was tangled and haphazardly raked out of his eyes by the wind. His dark and prominent eyebrows cast a manly swoop over his sapphire blue eyes, which were practically beaming from the adrenaline infused battle he had just been tangled in.

                He wore a sleeveless slate gray tunic, unclasped at the throat and belted by the same severely v shaped belt that the Angelus wore.

                We stood uncertainly for a moment until Gabriel cuffed me along the back of the head with a wing, effectively shoving me towards Castiel. I grabbed his bare shoulders which were damp with a light sheen of sweat before our chests collided in a fierce hug. He clapped me on the back in-between my shoulder blades before we drew apart with matching smiles.

“You grew much taller.”

“You hair is as long as Sam’s.”

Gabriel chortled at that as Castiel ran a hand through his haphazard tangles.

“How long have you been in Lorience?”

“I just arrived, only seen Sam and Samandriel.”

Gabriel cut in with a laugh.

“I would go find Bobby with due haste, he’ll be right twisted into a fit if he isn’t one of the first to see you.”

                I jerked back slightly as he twisted around and one his speckled wings nearly knocked me over. My shoulder twinged at the pull of muscle.

“What were your trials? I can sense that you are injured.”

“Oh it’s nothing, just a scrape.”

~oOo~

“Let me look at you!”

Bobby held me out at arms’ length as his eyes took in my form.

“Boy you’ve done well, I’m proud.”

                I tried to remain stoically dignified under my mentor’s stair but failed as I couldn’t help but inflate with pride at his words. He drew me over to the low table in the far side of his room and poured the contents of a flagon into two tankards.

“What were the trials they gave you?”

“A phoenix, a damned riddle and…”

I took a deep drought of ale before rubbing my eyes wearily.

“I assume you received some word of the vampire attack on Urbs de Astra?”

“I did, though I received no details in correspondence.”

I proceeded to explain the midnight attack we had fell under and the acts by which I was considered passing the third trial under.

Bobby shook his head.

“I’ll make sure the night’s events are documented in your history…boy, I cannot begin to explain how proud I am.”

His usual gruff voice hadn’t disappeared, but was smoothed over with joy and pride.

I stared into the dregs of amber ale in my tankard and smiled.

“Thank you Bobby.”


	6. Ex Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incendium-blaze  
> Ex Ignis-from the fire
> 
> I know there's quite a bit of talk about God and religion in this story, and particularly in this chapter. Just letting you know that I am a decidedly unreligious person so you don't have to fear that that I'm going to try and convert you or something equally as strange.

                Many things had changed in my absence from Regnum Dei; changes in myself and Castiel, changes in our personalities and actions. We had both grown more outgoing, more confident, I was probably more offensive, Castiel had become less courtly, though he would always retain his noble demeanor. But despite these changes and despite having to relearn one another in many ways our connection never wavered.

                Some of the other personal guards, or soul guards, as I now thought of them in my mind, were not as close with their charges. Of course the bond ensured a connection and closeness none other could achieve, and yet Castiel and I were by far the closest, though we were not yet completely bonded by soul. Michael and his guard Adamus seemed the closest by far, which had always surprised me. I had never been in close contact with the other guards, only having spoken with Adamus a handful of times. There seemed to be the slightest discord between Gabriel and his guard Richére, I had overheard talk that they were not considered a true match. Richére’s alae was compatible with Gabriel’s grace; though Bobby had mentioned that they were not completely matched like Castiel and I.

                The three years following my return were the swiftest to pass. The majority of our training was finished and the state was preoccupied with further matters. For as long as anyone could remember Caelum had kept posted regiments on the Infernus border. Now and again came word of a skirmish with a rogue tribe of Daemons or a nomadic desert lord. However, as of late, the battles had grown larger and dispatches from the west bore news of an army amassing. The King of Infernus was planning something, laying the pawns and plotting beyond the desert.

                Infernus’s army had been destroyed and the Daemon royal family crushed with The King and Lucifer’s crusade many years before. Stories were documented of the desert sand soaked with crimson bodies and rotting corpses, of the utter defeat the Daemon armies had suffered. But many years had passed and Infernus was rising once again.

                Recruitment for the Caelum armies and the Caelestis Hospes increased so that Regnum Dei was flooded with training soldiers. The Archangelum family seemed to sense the unrest, the quiet build. Castiel had become restless and agitated. At night he would fly and compete in aerial battles with Gabriel. His back and shoulders were corded with rippling muscle from his near constant practice. He did not speak of his unease, but even though we were not fully connected I could read him better than any other. It was not only the rising discord with Infernus that was causing him discomfort.

~oOo~

                It was the night of my twentieth birthday and I was a newly knighted Caelestis Hospes. I proudly bore the silver oiled armor and cerulean blue cloak. It hadn’t been an overly ostentatious ceremony; mainly consisting of Sammy beaming proudly, Samandriel strapping me into my new armor and Bobby presenting me with The Caelestis ceremonial sword. Castiel had not been present. I fiercely shoved away the vague betrayed disappointment before I could remind myself that I was there to serve Castiel.        Though we were friends I was his servant, he was Archangelum and I was his soul soldier, as King Michael had told me so many years ago, my life held no importance but to serve my prince.

                I did find him late into the night, sitting along the edge of the castle’s highest bastion near the south tower. His midnight wings draped across the gray stone held at an angle that spoke more than words ever could, that he was troubled. Pale moonlight washed across his feathers, illuminating the bridges across his wingtips with silver and making the deep oily sheen gleam with an unearthly glow.

                I unbuckled my belt and scabbard, gently placing the sword on the ground, before I joined him, legs hanging off the side of the steep stone edge. His ethereal blue eyes were swirling with an empyrean luminescent light and a thin ring of deep glowing sapphire.

                His sharply contoured face was cast in pale gray light, hollowing his cheeks and thinning his nose. He appeared vaguely sinister and far older than he truly was, especially with the contrast of his ebony hair and swirling celestial eyes. He cast me a discomforted glance as I eased myself onto the stones by his side, keeping careful to not squash his relaxed wing.

“What has been bothering you?”

                His gaze across the midnight countryside of Caelum grew unfocused and his mouth hardened into a frustrated frown.

“I do not know.”

“Surely the trouble with Infernus is not what keeps you up at night…Is it…that this impending war brings memories of Lucifer with it?”

“No, my inner unrest is not attributed from the dark past of my family, nor the inevitable war that brews deep in every soldier’s veins. I feel…restlessness within my soul. An urge to fly, as if some nameless place calls my name forth, it is as if my power is being called to, beckoned by some nameless force.”

I furrowed my brow and we sat quietly for a moment as a watchman marched by.

“Do you believe it to be sinister in nature?”

He hesitated before shaking his head.

“I cannot tell, I know not of what this pull is, nor of whom it stems from. But my Grace swells uneasily within me, it does not rest quietly as it should when I do not pull on it for power. I can feel it brimming inside of me, pushing and rolling beneath my skin incessantly.”

I smiled grimly and gestured to his florid emulating eyes.

“You are emitting the light of alae.”

He brushed two fingers against the corner of his eye with a vaguely annoyed expression.

“The further I try to suppress it the further it squirms and wriggles against my hold.”

“Have you spoken with Michael?”

                He turned his head but I could read his pain in the slope of his shoulders and his clenched jaw.

“My brother’s faith died with my father and Lucifer. Not just his faith in God, but his faith in anything. He believes that I am having difficulties coping with my fully fledged grace. I…I do not know what I am feeling, but it does not sit within me, I feel…a higher power, calling me, calling for something within me.”

I glanced to his silhouette with surprise.

“God…you speak of God?”

                He spoke wearily as he leaned his weight back onto an elbow and kicked his feet rhythmically against the stone.

“You do not believe in God Dean?”

                I was so confused of my own answer that it took me several moments to realize he had said my name, my real, actual name. He had never spoken that name to me before.

“I…I do not know. Michael seems mighty sure of his decision, of forsaking the Holy realm. What proof have I?”

The angered look he cast my way surprised me.

“Am I not proof enough? The existence of the Archangelum family if proof to every person upon earth; of the existence of God’s higher power, we are of Celestial blood and bond. But furthermore…”

                He tilted his head away from me again to gaze down at the battlements below.

“I stand firm in my belief that God did not turn his back against Caelum, against the Archangelum family…against me.”

                He whispered the last part as a child whispers a fevered prayer. I tilted my head back to gaze at the deep purple midnight sky glistening with a billion stars.

“How trivial this world must seem to him, how absolutely miniscule we must appear to be. Do you truly think he would care for us Cas?”

“That he would care for you.” I quickly amended.

“If God cared for anyone, it would be you Dean Winchester.”

I sat silently for a moment, gazing at the stars.

“You hold…so much faith within you…how?”

He smiled sadly and pointed to the stars.

“I have faith that every night when I look to the sky the stars will be shining down, that the moon will be hanging heavy above the tree tops. How is it any harder to cast that same faith upon the creator of those stars, upon the creator of me and you?”

                Something happened in that moment, something that wouldn’t be considered great nor vastly important to any other. My lips parted as I craned my neck back to gaze at the sky and my throat grew thick as I blinked my burning eyes.

                In that moment, upon that night on the battlements with Castiel I could see through his eyes. I could understand his faith, the faith his entire family, the faith the entire nation of Caelum had forsaken. It was impossible to deny God’s existence, it always had been when you served the Archangelum but now…it was not only accepting God’s existence, it was understanding his power. And I may not yet have had the faith that Castiel did, I believe no one could have what he did, but I did understand it, and maybe, just maybe, gain a little myself.

“My God” I murmured.

“You…you do understand?”

I lowered my gaze from the sky to cast him a dawning look of realization.

“I do.”

                He smiled then, a gentle tilt at the corners of his lips as the throbbing glow around his pupils faded into a soft hazy light. I did not realize it then, I would not realize it for a very long time to come, but in that moment I had gained Castiel’s absolute and eternal loyalty. A prince did not protect his guard, they were bonded, connected, but it was the guard’s duty, honor, and purpose to protect and die for his charge. I could give my soul to save his dying grace if need be. But an Archangelum did not give their life for their guard; they did not feel the absolute and undying sense of love and protection towards their guard such as that.

                But in my acceptance of this part of him that no other had before, Castiel gave unto me his absolute faith, as I had given mine to him.

                And this possibly, is what could form the strongest bond of all. We not only had a bond of grace and soul; of minds and energies but of complete unselfishness, our absolute all and every fiber of our being, every atom of faith. The purest love in the world is built upon faith, and we had absolute faith in each other.

                And thus marks the first flickering flame, the first marking pointer to something I would not realize for quite some time.

**~Incendium~**

**-The Infernus Capital-**

                A darkly cloaked figure swept passed a set of guarded doors, deep black velvet sweeping the marble behind his footsteps. An embroidered cowl was pulled far over the man’s shoulders, casting his face in shadow. Though his features were not exposed the guards saluted smartly and kept their vacant expressions fixed high on the windows behind. He eyed them with contemptuous distaste before pushing through the doors and entering the throne room.

                The palace of Incendium was once a realm of unrivaled majesty and splendor, but after the crusade of the Celestial armies, Infernus’s capital city had fallen to depraved squalor and ruin. The Incendium palace alone stood proud against the setting desert sun, marble columns and copper domes glinting brilliantly against a bloody sky.

                However, the rising power of the Daemonic army was a recent development, and as such, the royal court was not yet fully established in its’ musty halls. Gray shadows muffled a greater portion of the halls, tallow candles only illuminating the necessary wings being occupied. The darkly cloaked figure marched through these shadows before grandly pushing his way through a set of great wooden doors, into the room beyond in what was being used as the Daemonic army’s current war room.

                A large mahogany table was laid out in the middle of the room where a vast array of maps and parchments were spread across. Several military dressed figures were bent over the table, murmuring over a particularly large map. One of the taller figures, middle aged with yellowed eyes from years of hard drinking, gave a courtly bow from his waist at the approaching cloaked man.

“My Lord we were discussing the advancement of the cavalry to the southern border.”

“And I told you fools to stay your hands. We wait, Michael is no fool, he will know of our plans soon enough.”

The yellow eyed general furrowed his brow and frowned.

“My lord if we do not advance the cavalry the Caelestis forces will swing north unchecked.”

The cloaked figure advanced upon the table and tapped the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

“And yet Michael will not give the order. He is unsure of our plans as of yet, unsure of our battle strategy. Even yet his forces are still spread across Caelum, rallying the Caelestis army shall take time, too much time. By the time the fools have realized, we will be halfway across Caelum, nearly upon Lorience.”

The yellow eyed figure opened his mouth in objection before he was sharply cut off.

“Do not question me Azazel.”

The yellow eyed man snapped back.

“And yet that is my job your highness. You have no use for us generals if you cannot or will not listen to our advice.”

                The cloaked figure swept back the cowl of his hood, dark hair slicked back from his broad forehead, before he narrowed his eyes at his four cowering generals.

“Alastair, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

“I believe advancing our cavalry is foolish, to act too soon is to alert Michael and his forces of our plans.”

                The dark haired man smiled, black eyes glittering in the soft candlelight. The menacing glance cast Azazel’s way was sinister, and spoke volumes of the price paid for mutinous thoughts and words.

“Dispatches have brought word of our ranks surrender to the northern border your highness. As of yet our ranks have been unable to break their line.”

“Who is leading the northern flank?”

“Roman sir”

Two pale fingers tapped on the curling parchment thoughtfully for a moment.

“Bring me Abaddon.”

                The generals and their leader spoke quietly over technical battle plans, plotting and scheming as they waited. A short time later Azazel strode back through the doors followed by the crimson haired daemon behind. Her eyes glinted with complete blackness in the dim light, as much of the daemon races had for generations. Her hair was a deep crimson, unusual in its shade and richness of color.

                She wore a black tunic over a crème shirt and men’s breeches and tall leather boots. A hand and a half bastard sword was strapped at her waist and clunked rhythmically against her thigh. She gave a sardonic bow, cherry stained lips quirked in a snide smirk.

“My lord Crowley, you called?”

Alastair hissed from behind his master’s shoulder.

“It’s your majesty to you bitch.”

She clucked her tongue and curled a copper strand of hair around her finger idly.

“But you do need me, do you not?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“We are having some…difficulties along the northern border.”

Abaddon’s eyes glinted with amusement.

“Against the peasant militia? What difficulties are we facing there, pitchforks and torches?”

Crowley turned back to the maps spread across the table and hmmed thoughtfully.

“I believe you would enjoy rectifying the situation.”

A crimson eyebrow arched against alabaster skin as Abaddon peered along the table curiously.

“Your prediction is accurate, how many men are assigned in the northern lines?”

“500”

The daemon scoffed incredulously and tossed her hair.

“I’ll have those lines broken within a week.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“See that you do.”


	7. Ab Aeterno

**Chapter 7: Ab Aeterno**

                                On a brisk winded January morn I woke with a strange weight settled on my chest. The sky was clear and bright, and the castle was bustling with life. I washed in a copper tub by a stone hearth with mint and clover scented water before dressing in a sleeveless ceremonial sapphire tunic, cinched with the silver v shaped Angelus belt over black trousers and knee high leather boots. My fingers shook as I snapped the claps of my cloak to the shoulders and sheathed my sword against my thigh.

                The ceremony was not to be a public affair. The only people in attendance were the Archangelum royal family, and the members of the Angelus guard. Sam was allowed as a rare exception, though I suspected only because of Bobby. We met in the great hall, the Angelus guards lined the pillars though the royal family stood to the side as Castiel and I stood across from one another before the marble throne.

                Bobby poured a deep silvery concoction out of a crystal beaker and into a bowl of crushed herbs that smelled of cinnamon and willow. He stirred the mixture with his fingers as it began to waft a fine smoke and murmured an ancient Enochian incantation.

                Castiel looked calm and placid across from me, dressed in a matching sapphire tunic and wearing his sword belted at his side. His wings were groomed to perfection and reflected light from the stained glass window though his hair was wild and tousled, half plated into a braid behind his ear and weaved with Enochian beads. He caught my nervous glance and smiled faintly, his Grace glinting behind his eyes with an unnatural blue light.

                Bobby turned to me and marked Enochian sigils onto my forehead, the mixture felt icy on my skin and smelt of burnt ozone. He did the same to Castiel before we clasped one another’s shoulders and Bobby stepped back with a proud smile.

“On this day in January, on the day of Dean’s twenty first birthday, you Castiel Archangelum and you, Iustus Dean Winchester are to be bound by soul and spirit. You have trained for many years and strived through many trials to reach this day upon which you will be linked in a bond of eternal brotherhood and protection.”

                Castiel’s eyes were swirling and pulsing fully with the power of his Grace now. He was pulling his power to the surface, preparing for the bond.

“Dean, from the moment I saw you I recognized the light of Alae within you, this light reflects the power of your liege and gives you the ability to withstand and accept the Grace of your bonded protected. Does the light of Alae within you, accept the Grace of Castiel?”

“I fully accept the Caelestis bond and acknowledge the intertwined fate of Princep Castiel’s Grace, and my light of Alae.”

                With those words Castiel’s eyes flashed as bright as lightning and I could feel his Grace wash over me like a bucket of ice water. I closed my eyes and concentrated as I had been instructed, making sure not to shove Castiel’s presence out. I could feel him in my mind, brushing against me, his blue light mingling with my own like mist.

                Unconsciously I could feel part of myself drift outward, to wrap around the globe of light within Castiel like a thin shroud before being absorbed and mingling within him, much like seeing ink dissolve within a goblet of water.

                His emotions and thoughts nudged against my mind, I tugged him forward and felt as he did, just as he did for me. Far in the distance I was aware of our surroundings, that my shoulder burned fiercely and the murmuring of the crowd around us.

                For a moment I lost hold of everything, I ceased to know of who I was, rather, where the line was drawn between where I ended and where Castiel began. We were one entity, one brilliant blazing light of perfection, of seamless melded minds. It was ecstasy, it was finding a part of myself I had never known was missing, like filling a gaping hole in my soul.

                I could feel myself shaking as emotions I could barely describe welled within me. It was a plain of higher existence and perfected peace and happiness. Castiel’s soul against my own washed a gentle presence of complete content over me. But in the back of my mind it wasn’t enough, there was the smallest piece of the puzzle missing. I pressed forward, wading deeper within his light before being gently seized and nudged back within myself.

                As Castiel hesitantly pulled away, so that we could remember he was himself and I was me, I realized we were gripping each other violently and panting out harsh gusts of breath between our teeth. I blinked my eyes open; the back of my throat ached and I swallowed thickly. Castiel opened his, which were still emulating with his Grace, though the light pulsed with my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

                I loosened my hold on his shoulders, where my fingernails were diggings white indentions into the skin and his palms slid down my arms. I hissed as his hand drug over raw throbbing skin and glanced down to the angry red handprint raised against my shoulder.

                Bobby’s voice suddenly rang out, though he sounded wary.

“The both of you alright?”

                I glanced up to him and then around to the rest of our audience whom I had forgotten before turning my gaze away with embarrassment. This was far too much of an intimate moment and I could not bear to meet anyone’s eyes. Castiel gave a diplomatic smile that bespoke calm serenity, though I could feel his inner stress as acutely as my own.

                I let out a heavy gust of air and shook my head in a short nod before stepping away from Castiel and raked a shaking hand through my hair. Bobby stepped forward and pinned the silver wings of the Angelus against my breast and patted my non marked shoulder with an assuring smile.

Sam careened forward to beam at me, damn him, he was beaming down now.

“My brother an Angelus! Father would be proud.”

                Sam’s words rested heavy on my chest for the rest of the day. I was suddenly aware of the metal amulet resting beneath my tunic like a hot brand, which had always served as a memory, but now felt like a weight.

                Midday drew on and I saddled Ignis and rode out into the streets. It was not often that I ventured out into the city. Through the years training at Regnum Dei and Urbs de Astra I had never had the need. Besides, they carried haunting memories from the time before Bobby found Sam and me.

                Riding through the streets now, felt as if staring through another man’s dreams. Townsfolk easily swept aside and bowed their heads respectfully, and the ordinary military soldiers prowling the streets that had terrified me as a boy cast me awe filled gazes as I galloped past. I rode Ignis through the higher ordinances and through the lower districts. The streets grew smaller and dirtier, the people poorer, and the awe filled gazes bled to either gaping enraptured praise or terrified fear.

                I rode till the streets grew more familiar and I recognized the dingy pub at the outer city wall squatting low and solid against the dirt street and beside what was once Winchester’s Mill. I dismounted Ignis and led him to the stables even as he flicked his ears in annoyance at the smell of new stall mates. The stableman’s man’s eyes widened as he took the leather reins and two gold coins.

“If my horse is not here when I return I’ll have you dying at the borders of Infernus in the name of the King,” I warned, putting on my finest scowl.

                He looked near to pissing himself so I considered my point well engrained before entering the pub. It was just as I had remembered, low beamed ceiling and a large hearth. The tables were ancient and sturdy, scrubbed clean with salt and the air smelt of smoke, sweat, ale, and musty straw stomped several layers thick into the ground across the floors.

                I approached the bar where I had spotted a familiar figure, just shy of curves verging into plumpness, blonde hair far grayer than I remembered and a frightening, yet kind smile. Ellen Harvelle was pouring a frothing tankard of ale as I approached her, before she slung the lead mug down the bar, froth sloshing across wood.

                She paused and gave me an evaluating stare for a moment while drying her hands on her ale stained apron.

“I’m righ’ fair shure I’hve seen you b’fore, though I’m gettin’ old an’ I can’t quite reckon where.”

“Dean Winchester m’am.”

                I winced slightly, noticing for the first time how my accent had changed. I sounded much as Prince Balthazar had to me when we first spoke, the rough lower district accents sounding by far harsher than I ever remembered.

                Her face lit up and she bustled around the bar to grab me by the shoulders and sling me down to her height for a fierce hug.

“Dean Winchester! I thaugh’ I’d never see tha’ likes auve you augain’!”

She drew back and raked her gaze up and down my form, eyebrows near meeting her hairline.

“An’ by the looks auve ya’ you got a few stories ta’ tell.”

“I was rather hoping that you had a few to tell me.”

Ellen turned and untied her apron as she yelled through the pub.

“Josephine, I needja’ ta’ watch tha’ front love.”

                A thin wisp of a blonde girl, or woman rather, as she was Jo Harvelle and only a year younger than me, whisked through the maze of tables. She had the same fine colored hair as her mother, though she looked more like her father. Ellen nodded to her, and then me.

“An’ ole’ friend’s dropped in. Ya’ remember Dean Winchester?”

                I had played away many a summer day with Jo while we both avoided work at the mill and pub. During harvest she had helped me with threshing the fresh wheat sold to us by local folks just outside the city. She had packed a sharp tongue and an equally sharp bight. She beamed a radiant smile my way, just as lovely as her mother.

“Course’ I do, he was my first kiss af’er all.”

                Ellen clucked her tongue as I grinned and Jo laughed while leaning against the counter easily before ushering me to a corner table and placing a tankard of bitter amber ale before me.

“So, wha’ stories were ya’ wantin’ to hear?”

I fingered the weight of the amulet for a moment.

“My father…”

Ellen hmmed knowingly and flicked a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

“Twas’ a tragedy, tha’ fate of ya’ mother and father both, I woulda’ taken both you boys in, but those were some mighty hard t’mes.”

“I don’t blame you or any of the other folk, I ran away with Sam because I knew this.”

“How is the boy?”

“Ridiculously tall and still growing.”

She grinned and nodded as if she expected nothing else.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell ya’ much abou’t ya’ parents tha’ ya’ don’t already know Dean. They were good people. I loved ya’ mother like a sister an’ not many new how fierce ya’ father really was. I’m afraid I’m a’ bahd source when it comes ta’ this.”

                The window by the door was closed with an oiled skin though I could see the fading light signifying the sun would be setting behind the silhouette of Regnum Dei soon.

“Don’t trouble yourself Ellen; I came for Sam more than anything. I should be taking my leave, my prin…I should be at my charge’s side come nightfall. The evening revelries will soon be coming to an end.”

Ellen stood and winked at me, “ Lisen’ ta’ ya’ talk of _revelries_ an’ _prince charges_!”

                I laughed at her slurred imitation of my altered accent. As I drew away from the table her eyes lit up.

“Now jus’ wait a moment, God how I’ve grown’ old, I do have somethin’ for ya’.”

                She was gone no longer than a minute before she reappeared pulling a dark brown leather book from an oiled cloth pouch. The once cream parchment was faded a deep yellow with age and the leather was cracking, the hand sewn spine worn loose.

“I saved this from tha’ mill b’fore those damn collectors came callin’. Belonged to ya’ mother, passed down through tha’ family. I can’t read so God knows wha’ it is, but it’s yours.”

I carefully rewrapped the book in the oiled cloth and hugged Ellen.

“Thank you Ellen.”

                She drew back and placed two fingers against my cheek, in the farewell symbol of the outer ordinances, one I hadn’t witnessed since my father’s pyre burning.

“God be with ya’ Dean.”

                Words not spoken in Regnum Dei. I mirrored her action and placed a gentle kiss where my fingers had been.

“And with you Ellen.”

~oOo~

                I road back through the streets as the sky bled into brilliant shades of crimsons and golds. Behind me to the east along the silhouettes of the Lerulien Mountains, the sky had faded to a deep purple and midnight blue.

                After a stable boy took Ignis Sam appeared, arms crossed over his broad chest and one eyebrow arched in judgment.

“And where have you been all day. You ruffled quite a few feathers ignoring the feast Michael held in behalf of Castiel and your official bonding.”

I quietly handed him the oil skin wrapped book.

“What you said earlier…I went the Quarter District.”

                He glanced up to shoot me a confused look as he unwrapped the book.

“What is this?”

“Ellen Harvelle, you probably don’t remember her, gave it to me. She was a family friend, said it belonged to mother.”

                Sam’s hands gentled as he turned it about in his hands and ran his fingers down the spine reverently.

“Ellen was William Harvelle’s wife right, the pub owner?”

“Yeah, why don’t you take it, read it over and relay any interesting bits to me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Castiel was asking after you earlier, I think he wanted to speak with you.”

                I nudged his shoulder as I brushed past him.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone little brother.”

“No that’s more of your forte,” He called out as I made for the inner wall.

                The halls were cast in soft shadows as I made for the royal quarters in the East Wing. Candles and torches had been lit down the major halls and the air hung heavy with the scents of burning tallow and clover scent.

                Caelestis Hospes Guards were posted throughout the Wing, though the hall with Castiel’s chambers were absent of soldiers. Once the member of the Archangelum family had bonded with their personal guard the number of soldiers kept to closely guard the family member was cut back.

                As I drew nearer to his suite I could feel Castiel’s presence humming in the back of my mind. It was a strange sensation though not entirely uncomfortable. The powerful thrum of his Grace pulsed warmly in a steady rhythm akin to a heartbeat. But just as I approached the door to his chambers the sleep steady and calm haze of his power and mind up ticked and rolled with sudden distress.

                                His mind was still clouded, no clear or precise thoughts filtered through the back of my mind and I wrenched open the door as a bright piercing white light flooded beneath the wood.

“YOUR HIGHNESS!”

                I drew my sword and screamed as his distress swirled into a confusing swirl of brilliant flashes of light and images. The blinding light was flooding the room and I stumbled forward shielding my eyes.

“PRINCE CASTIEL!!!”

                It was Castiel emanating the effulgent blaze and I yelled past the rushing of blood in my ears at the sight of him. He was twisting in his bed sheets, naked muscles bulging and strained, writhing and contorting, back arched and wings bristled out and thrashing high above his head.

                He clenched his teeth and grit out a guttural suppressed scream as he dug his heels into the mattress and arched high, neck stretched taught as his entire body convulsed.

                His wings flapped and he rose from the bed several feet, still contorting and jerking about. I ran forward, screaming his name as I reached out for him. Just as my arm and fingers extended, nearly reaching where his leg was bent down, to wrap around his ankle, when his eyes flew open.

                They shown with golden white light and were devoid of his pupils and irises. He threw his head back and his entire body arched impossibly as he grit out through clenched teeth. But his voice was wrong, so terrifyingly wrong, as it reverberated throughout the room.

“Do not touch him Dean Winchester.”

                An agonizing pain seared through the back of my skull as images and sounds flashed by, too quickly to identity what they were. My stomach rolled with nausea as I fell to my knees and clutched my head with a scream, dropping my sword with a clatter of metal on marble. My vision blurred into pained pinpricks of light before Castiel fell to the bed and the room was engulfed in darkness.

                For a moment the only sound was of my harsh panting as I fought to my feet, trying to ignore the ache deep in my bones and the urge to collapse. But then in the darkness Castiel opened his eyes and they shown out like beacons in the night. They were pulsing with his cerulean blue Grace and when he spoke, it was his voice again.

“I have received a message from God Iustus.”

“Cas,” I croaked out as I stumbled to his splayed and sweat drenched form on the bed. He rolled his head limply to cast me a dazed stare.

“We go to Infernus.”


	8. Deusvult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deusvult- God wills it  
> So there was quite a bit of historical lingo in this chapter, but I hope it didn’t confuse too much!  
> Aketon- Was a padded and quilted garment, usually of linen, worn under or instead of plate or mail.  
> Ailette- armor- A piece of leather or parchment laced to the shoulder, more decorative than protective and usually bearing the coat of arms of the wearer.   
> Bracer- Small arm protector for archers  
> Vambrace- Armor- Upper cannon of plate covering the upper arm, lower cannon of plate covering the forearm.   
> A castle’s chapel was usually in one of its towers. Floors were wooden and a chapel, instead of being one floor, would have been many, taking up several stories. A tower was usually five stories, the top being nothing more than a lookout platform.   
> For us yanks, a pence is the equivalent to a penny. 12 Pennies make a shilling, 13 shillings and 4 pence makes a mark. 20 shillings makes a pound. 1 crown is 5 shillings and 1 pence is made up of 4 farthings.  
> To put things in perspective in monetary value during the medieval ages, the average daily wage for a mercenary: knight, would have been 2 shillings; a squire- 1 shilling per day, and an archer- 3 pence. So Dean basically paid the stable boy an entire day’s wages of a castle’s military archer.  
> Also for us yanks, a liege makes up about 3 miles, which translates to Dean and Cas heading north for about 45 miles. For you Brits and Aussies, translate to kilometers for yourself, I don’t speak metric system ;p

“ _I have received a message from God Iustus.”_

_“Cas,” I croaked out as I stumbled to his splayed and sweat drenched form on the bed. He rolled his head limply to cast me a dazed stare._

_“We go to Infernus.”_

~oOo~

I collapsed onto my knees by Castiel’s bedside as my legs buckled from under me.

“God wishes you to go to Infernus?”

                Castiel slowly pulled himself up and stretched his wings behind him gingerly. They caught a faint beam of moonlight filtering through the high open window and refracted a glint of silver along their crests. Through our bond I could feel the twinge of pain aching through his shoulder blades.

“He spoke to me…he…he did not tell me why, just that the answers to my questions lie in Infernus.”

I quickly grabbed his bicep as he faltered while rising to his feet.

“What questions?!Should I not send for Michael?”

At that Castiel stood dramatically and his wings fanned out in alarm.

“No!!No one can know we have gone. No one most know of this mission!”

“But why!? Your brothers will be murderous, Michael shall tear the kingdom apart in search of you!”

                The presence of Castiel’s cool grace washed over me and his ever present energy in the back of my mind brushed forward with purpose. A calm sense of surety and the inexplicable faith that Castiel possessed in God and the path he was leading him on washed over me.

                My shoulders sagged and I cast an exasperated eye roll heavenward while muttering to myself, “Michael will have me skewered on a pike when we return.”

                Despite my reluctant tone the corner’s of Castiel’s mouth curved up in a fleeting smile while I opened his door and peeked my head into the outer hall to make sure no guards had heard the prior commotion.

“I’ll need to go gather provisions if you wish to leave tonight, we shall have to leave in the cover of darkness, and…” I paused to rake a skeptical eye down his bare gleaming chest and fine linen pants.

“We’ll need some…travelling clothes, I’m not sure how we could bind your wings though…”

                He turned to rifle through his wardrobe and rolled his shoulders, back muscles flexing as his feathers rippled like grass in the wind.

“I can cloak them for periods of time if need be. It is not pleasant and I’m afraid I haven’t had a great amount of practice but I can manage to pass for a human.”

I turned swiftly away from his form, swallowing thickly.

“I shall return shortly with our needed supplies than.”

                I made a swift escape down the hall and was making my way through the royal wing when I nearly bumped into one of the royal siblings.

“Princess Anna, my apologies your highness.”

                I crossed my arm along my chest and swept into a deep bow. She cast an elegant sight in the hallway’s dim torchlight, with her deep crimson hair falling in cascading curls over her shoulders and half pulled up with pearl pins. She wore a dark emerald dress, falling off the shoulders and bound along her abdomen and hips with cord. Her wings flicked with amusement as her lips quirked with a smile.

“I see you have returned from your disappearance today Iustus.”

I fiddled with the pommel of my sword awkwardly for a moment.

“Ahhhh, yes, I suppose your brother was not very pleased with me.”

Her smile grew, though she looked as poised and aloof as ever.

“Michael has been occupied with greater things as of late, so as of now you are safe. You are returning from Castiel’s chambers yes?”

“Yes your highness.”

At this her smile grew strained.

“Is he…faring well? I felt a…disturbance.”

I kept my gaze neutral and calm, though I felt like bolting under the princess’s keen gaze.

“He is well highness, he was…mildly agitated but has bedded for the night.”

“Ahhh, well that explains it than, I shant keep you from your own bed. Have a good night.”

I gave another brief bow and edged around her, keeping my back to the wall in respect.

“And you as well your highness.”

                The moment I escaped her sight I made my way as swiftly as I could to my new chambers in the Royal Angelus guardhouse without looking conspicuous. I gathered several changes of travel clothes, roughly spun linen shirts and pants, darkly dyed tunics and leather jerkins. Actual armor would be too conspicuous to carry and wear outside the castle walls, despite the obvious advantage of metal plated protection.

                However, I did grab leather bracers and vambraces, and a deep navy blue aketon for Castiel. I gathered two pairs of slightly worn leather boots that would fit us both and wouldn’t go too terribly amiss. I made sure to grab deep forest green cloaks with deep cowls and broad shoulder range. I gathered sharpening stones and oil, plenty of coinage for a trip to Infernus and back and many other necessities for our trip.

                At the last moment I also grabbed two leather ailettes bearing mock coat of arms. Many of the soldiers’ practice duels were elaborate affairs and we took to creating fake nobleman’s houses and bearers for our own amusement. Although we needed to travel with hidden identities, bearing a coat of arms as a nobleman’s knight or vassal would prove beneficial.

                Caelum had very few aristocratic families besides the royal Archangelum line. But common people wouldn’t know many house names or the lineage behind them. Robbers rarely attacked well armed knights serving a liege as it usually brought down the wrath of a reigning lord over their heads.

                I hesitated with my arms loaded down with provisions in the doorway at the thought of Sam slumbering in the other room. Waking Sam and explaining the circumstances would waist too much time and leaving a letter for someone else to find was out of the question. But the thought of abandoning Sam without any word made me ache deep within my chest. He would worry, and possibly tear the kingdom apart in search of Castiel and myself.

                I hesitated a moment more before silently ducking into his suite and pulling my leather corded amulet from under my tunic. He was fast asleep in his bed and I made my way through the dark to his bedside; opened his fisted hand gently, and placed the medallion in his palm, before closing his fingers tight around it.

“For safe keeping little brother,” I whispered in the dark, “do not worry, I will be home again soon.”

                I deftly ducked back into the outer corridor and shouldered the ridiculous amount of clothes and provisions I had before quickly and silently making my way to Castiel’s chambers.

                When I arrived in his room, unseen and trying valiantly to not leave a trail of clothes through the castle, Castiel stood facing his window, broad shoulders facing the door. I stopped short and stared for a moment, it was the first time I had ever seen him without wings after all. He turned at the sound of the saddle bags hitting the floor and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as he did so.

                I could feel his discomfort through the bond. Though as I did not have wings I couldn’t truly understand the feeling; I guessed it would be much like having one’s arms bound to your back.

                We dressed; Castiel in a crème linen undershirt and the blue aketon, dark brown breeches and black boots, myself in a deep tan undershirt, leather jerkin, breeches and boots.

“How do you plan on us escaping past the guards unseen?”

I cast him an impish grin as I laced the vambraces and bracers to my arms, “How do you fare at climbing?”

                We finished dressing and shouldered the saddlebags, and belted our swords to our backs to keep them out of the way while climbing. Castiel’s chambers, thank God, were not in one of the high towers. However, the royal wing, which consisted of 10 separate hallways, made up the entire eastern section of the castle on the top floor. It was still a very long drop from his chamber window to the shadowed corner of the inner courtyard.

                I wasn’t nervous for myself; I had trained with climbing for years. Bobby had had me doing trapeze back flips from the castle towers to the bastions. In my time at Urbs de Astra half of my training was spent scaling and jumping through trees. Castiel was who I worried for. Neither of us shared a fear for heights, but he had relied on his wings his entire life, and as far as I knew, never scaled anything higher than the oak trees in the inner courtyard.

                I climbed out the window first, finding footholds and inching downward and to the right. The stones used in the walls were large, smooth, and packed tight together so that footholds and convenient outcroppings to grip were sparse in-between. Before long sweat gathered on my forehead and my undershirt stuck damply to my back.

                Castiel seemed to be having an easier time of it than me. His thick shoulder and back muscles; earned from years of carrying the weight of his wings and aerial combat, gave him advantage. Rather than worrying about footholds, he held himself by digging his fingers in-between the stones and freely hanging, occasionally swinging himself downward to a new perch.

                Halfway in our descent a guard ambled by to pause directly below us in the shadows. Castiel paused mid swing and hung precariously while I froze with one leg outstretched at a near 90 degree angle away from my body. I swore under my breath as my arms shook and the cool evening air pricked at my sweat drenched skin.

                I caught a brief flash of vivid blue from Castiel’s eyes as a wave of annoyance crackled through our bond and he grit his teeth as the guard loitered for a few moments more. I hid a grin against my shoulder and the guard finally moved on and disappeared around the corner.

                We continued our descent and I dropped to the ground with a sigh and quickly threw my cloak on and pulled the cowl low over my head and eyes. Castiel dropped down quietly behind me and did the same. We darted through the shadows of the courtyard without incident before we skulked into the stables.

                Cedric, the stable boy that helped look after most of the Angelus’s horses was asleep in his quarters. I shook him awake and he started, before I held a finger to my lips and nodded to the door. His eyes widened.

“Master Iustus sir?”

“My friend and I have urgent business of the crown. We’re taking Ignis and Centurion.”

                Cedric cast a surreptitious glance to Castiel’s silent form blocking light from the yard outside. His cowl was pulled low over his eyes and only the sharply shadowed line of his jaw and mouth was visible.

“Right sir, you’ll want them saddled now?”

I placed three pence in his palm and his eyes bugged out.

“No that’s alright; we’ll take care of the horses. I just need your silence, and to not speak of the horses missing. Tell the stables’ master two Angelus took them on business when you have to, but not until he asks, understood?”

He nodded quickly and closed his fist tightly over the three pence.

“I won’t breathe a word master Iusuts!”

I patted his shoulder and stood, nodding to Castiel and he disappeared out of the doorway.

“Thank you Cedric, and do one more thing for me, when they ask who the Angelus were, don’t tell them you saw me yes?”

His eyes flickered unsure for a moment, so I crouched back down and smiled calmly.

“It’s a secret quest that we’re going on, and nobody can know that we’ve gone, not even my brother.”

He nodded again, more slowly this time.

“Alright sir”

                I clapped his shoulder and met Castiel in the alcove of the tack room, leading Ignis behind me while he saddled Centurion, a bay stallion that knew the scents of the Archangelum royal family well, and did not shy away from Castiel’s hands.

                Escaping the outer courtyard and through the curtain wall gates was a more difficult task. Night watchmen kept a hawk eye’s gaze along the battlements, though they watched outside the walls for the most part. We quietly led the horses out a side gate with the changing of the guards, and were disappearing into the night’s shadows before anyone could call out a warning.

                The streets of Lorience were quieter during the dark of night, except for the less desirable. Grungy riff raff skulked the streets and a night walker with a tightly corseted waist and rouge painted lips called out to us from under the alcove of a whore house in the outer districts.

                The city wall gates closed at night fall but I pulled my silver winged insignia from my saddlebag and flashed it to the guard and rumbled darkly from the shadows of my cloak.

“Official business of the crown.”

                The gate was pulled up with a clambering clanking noise and we rode out into the countryside. We took the northern road in case anyone had spotted our departure and asked the direction of our travel. We would travel north fifteen lieges or so before we would turn west for Infernus.

                After a time of silent travel, the only sound our horses’ hooves clopping down the road and the nightly wildlife chittering and howling, I turned to Castiel and grinned.

“So how does it feel?”

“In what particular, are you asking of?”

“This is your first time beyond the city walls; you have to be a little excited, surely?”

“A little,” he admitted begrudgingly, before he sighed at my impish curiosity through the bond, “I can’t imagine the rest of Caelum is too different from Lorience.”

“No, but sure as hell Infernus will be. Speaking of, are we aiming for somewhere a little more specific than an entire country?”

His broad shoulders under the cloak stiffened ever so slightly, but I could not see his face due to the cowl’s shadow.

“I saw…desert and the setting sun in a crimson bleeding sky behind the silhouette of a palace like I’ve never seen before…with high spire towers with circular spiked domes of copper and pillars of marble and ivory.”

I whistled, “Incendium, I heard talk amongst the rangers at Urbs de Astra of the Daemon palace, but I’d always thought they were fanciful exaggerations.”

                I didn’t have to see his face to know it was twisted with distaste as I felt his animosity flickering like a spark on a flint.

“Michael fears the numbers that Crowley has managed to cultivate for the daemon ranks. His movements have been experimental, slow and small, testing the waters, but the northern posts have been facing attacks from their newest general, a she daemon known as Abaddon. I fear his lack of movement, what secret plans that they have hidden up their sleeves. Crowley is sly, and a genius military tactician.”

I cast him a surprised glance.

“You speak as if you know him.”

                His voice held a wry tone, “I know of him, he was a lower tactics general during my father and Lucifer’s crusade. By the end of the war he was leading half the daemon army, but he escaped with his inner circle of advisors after Lucifer…after Lucifer’s betrayal.”

“And the Daemon royal family, are they not still missing?”

He sighed wearily, “Our spies report nothing, but then who knows.”

“How likely is it, Michael riding to war?”

“Very,” his tone was laced with thinly veiled contention.

I pursed my lips, “You disagree?”

                “I disagree with most things Michael does, my brother is a fool,” he sighed, “Lucifer’s betrayal was the hardest on him; they were as close as a soul bonded pair could be. But not only his trust in Lucifer was shattered, but in everything else too. His trust in God, his country…his family; he would even believe that I could betray him for the throne.”

I could feel his hurt and pain, heavy almost like a literal weight as he cast a distant look to the stars overhead.

                “I’ll always remember the day that the chapel in the North tower was boarded up, and when the warmth of his gaze was replaced with distrust and sorrow. Gabriel tells me I look just like him…and I think this is, in part, why he cannot bare to look at me.”

The weight of his hurt increased so that I felt like I was suffocating underneath his dejected pain at his brother’s rejection.

“You’re right, Michael is a fool. You are not Lucifer and you should not have to pay for his betrayal.”

“I hope there is an answer for my family, for Michael, in Infernus.”

I gave his shadowed form a surprised glance.

“You believe God is sending us to Infernus because of your family?”

“I believe he is sending us to Infernus for many things, I simply hope Michael is one of them.”


End file.
